,0 






A^^' '^f^: 



r ^ 



<^ (^ 






,/> ,\^ 









^^.^^' 

^^''^., 



•^^^''" 









% .^■ 
.^^' -' 



,-^- 



'^^'^■ 



.^^- 



</> .^' 






L 






^^ v'- 



^^^ "'^^. 



-^^ 






^<i^ 









^■^ .<^ 



■x^^" 






* .A 



\ . N f. 



.V C 



^^%; 



,<i- 



:, ^^..v 
■^ .s^-^. 



,'V '^ ^^^s?' 









;* v'^ 



• ^ .0^- 



o\' 



, \. 1 « 



m 















■ -? 












""'^iS^^^ 









•<- 



^./ ^# 









> 



^^P^y ^^^ 









<. ^- ' « < <1 



1 'P 



-^o^ 










>. ^ *„'"':': ^' .^o■■ 



- %.#■ 




^.c<* - 



'^■^■, vV = aV 



^^ 



^"J' ,^v 













.^>' 










H -71, 



'*'.'^'-> .'-?«^f^^«J■■ 



.\- 



V 



\^ . 



fr ,J^^ 









, " %vy# -s' ^SJ-' 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/campfiresondeserOOhorn 




The Rainbow Rams, on the Lava Peak 

Painted by Carl Rungius, after sketch and photograph by John M. Phillips. Page x97. 



CAMP- FIRES ON 
DESERT AND LAVA 



BY 



WILLIAM T. HORNADAY, Sc.D. 

AUTHOR OF "the AMERICAN NATURAL HISTORY," 
"camp-fires in THE CANADIAN ROCKIES," ETC. 



PHOTOGRAPHICALLY ILLUSTRATED BY 

DR. DANIEL TREMBLY MacDOUGAL, MR. JOHN M. 
PHILLIPS, AND THE AUTHOR 



WITH TWO NEW AND ORIGINAL MAPS BY 

MR. GODFREY SYKES 

GEOGRAPHER TO THE EXPEDITION 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

1908 



p 



o o 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Coaics Received 

OCT 24 1908 

CLAS'J fX, XAt, No 
COPY t. 



Copyright, 1908, by 

WILLIAM T. HORNADAY 

Published October, 190S 




f- 






*0 



•Ms! 



^0 
DANIEL TREMBLY MacDOUGAL, Ph.D., Etc. 

ALL-AROUND BOTANIST, ZOOLOGIST, SPORTSMAN AND GOOD FELLOW, 
WHO BUILT FOR US A CHAIN OF CAMP-FIRES 

FROM TUCSON TO PINACATE, 

ON THE GREATEST DESERT TRIP IMAGINABLE, 

THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED 

FOREVER. 

W. T. H. 



PREFACE 

Primarily, the expedition described in the following 
pages was an exploration of a genuine terra incognita. 
While it is true that the Pinacate region was known to a 
few Papago Indians and perhaps half a dozen Mexicans, 
to the reading and thinking world it was totally un- 
known; and the more we gathered maps and inquired 
about it, the less we knew. On all available maps the 
space around the Pinacate dot was a blank, and usually 
the dot itself was far out of place. T There was not a 
soul who knew enough about the country to say "lava."^ 

Naturally, the animal and plant life of the Pinacate 
region was as much unknown as its geography; hence our 
combination of botanist, zoologist, sportsman, and geog- 
rapher. In any wild country, that is "a good hand to 
draw to,'* and with the three jolly good fellows whose 
company I shared, I could enjoy exploring any country 
this side of the Styx. Indeed, I would take my chances 
with them beyond it. 

Ever since it was my good fortune to see the Rocky- 
Mountain big-horn at its culminating point in British 
Columbia, I had been keenly desirous of studying that 
species at the point where its progress southward is 
stopped by fierce heat, and scanty food and water. It 



viii PREFACE 

seemed to me that in the Pinacate region we might in all 
probability find one of the jumping-off places of the 
genus Ovis in North America; which we did. 

Much depends upon the point of view. No man 
should make the mistake of exploring a desert in hot 
weather. It is equalled in folly only by the exploration of 
the polar regions in winter. A hard season always begets 
unreasonable prejudices in the mind of the observer. 
The choice of companions also has very much to do with 
the point of view. Don't visit any desert under the handi- 
cap of Indian ''guides." They are enough to depress the 
spirits of a barometer; and some of them will even 
abandon you in the wilds! Go with from one to six good 
white men, with red blood in their veins, or postpone the 
event. 

Of the books that I had read previous to my desert 
experience, not one gave me a clear-cut and adequate 
impression of southern Arizona. Of the northwestern 
corner of Mexico, practically nothing had been written. 
I based my expectations upon existing records — and 
never was more surprised in a country. This book rep- 
resents an effort to show the Reader a strange, weird, and 
also beautiful country as it looked to me. 

I did not sample the terrors of the deserts. The 
seamy sides of lands and peoples do not attract me. I 
have little patience with travellers who are eternally get- 
ting into scrapes, and having heart-rending "sufferings" 
and ** adventures." In all save the wildest of the wild 
regions of earth, such doings indicate bad judgment and 
a lack of the Savvey of the Trail which every explorer 



PREFACE ix 

and sportsman should possess. It Is possible for men to 
have terrible "experiences" anywhere. Men have been 
frozen to death in the streets of New York, and very 
recently others have perished miserably in the New Jersey 
marshes, within sight of hundreds of electric lights. The 
deserts have their dangers also — for men who ignorantly 
and rashly rush into them; but in any country the best 
travellers are those who know how to do their work and 
avoid such things. 

In November, southern Arizona is fascinating, no less. 
The boundless space, the glorious sunshine, the balmy 
air, the cleanness of the face of Nature, the absence of 
dust, filth, waste paper, polluted streams, dirty humanity, 
and many other things that wear on Life in a great city, 
strongly appeal to me. The countries that will grow 
corn and wheat and hogs in great abundance per acre 
are not the only lands worth knowing. Consider Ari- 
zona. Certainly it is a Land of Health, and if ever 
I am called upon to die in the East, I will go there 
and live. 

The Discerning Reader will not need to be told cate- 
gorically how greatly I am indebted to my companions. 
Dr. MacDougal, Mr. Phillips, and Mr. Sykes, for their 
many and valuable contributions to this volume, espe- 
cially in photographs and maps. Their best results were 
generously and unreservedly placed at my disposal, and 
he who reads will appreciate their value. Mr. Sykes has 
mapped the Pinacate region absolutely for the first time; 
and there are at least three men who are ready to vouch 
for the accuracy of his work. 



X PREFACE 

We are greatly indebted to the Mexican Government 
for the authority so graciously and promptly granted to 
enter Mexico with our outfit, and also to President Roose- 
velt and our Department of State for kindly and oppor- 
tunely bespeaking that favour for us. 

W. T. H. 

New York, June 15, 1908. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

Moving Pictures of the Iron Trail 3 

Pinacate, the Mystery — A Desert Experience and an Exploration — 
Dr. Daniel Trembly MacDougal — Moving Pictures of the South- 
west — Four State Comers in One Day — The Threshold of the 
Great Desert Region — New Mexico — Two Oases — El Paso, and 
the Small Rio Grande — The Dreariest Deserts — Arrival at Tucson. 



CHAPTER H 

Tucson, and the Desert Botanical Laboratory . 14 

The Amphitheatre of Tucson — A Demoralized Compass — The Santa 
Cruz River — The Flavour of Mexico — The Yaqui Indian and His 
Industry — Impressions of Tucson — The University of Arizona — 
The Hand of the Carnegie Institution of Washington — The Desert 
Botanical Laboratory, Its Plant, and Its Problems. 

CHAPTER HI 

Trailing into a New World 23 

Our Social Register — A Model Outfit — A New and Different World — 
An Encounter with Indians — Our First Accident Averted — A 
Cattle Ranch Around a Desert Well — Animal Life of the First Day 
— The First Camp-Fire. 

CHAPTER IV 

First Impressions of an Arboreal Desert .... 25 

The Frame of Mind — The Nursery Idea — Strange Association of 
Plains and Mountains — Desert Amphitheatres — Unique Granite 
Mountains — The Arroyo and Its Uses — Millions of Specimen 
Shrubs and Trees — ^A Flood Basin. 



xii CONTENTS 

CHAPTER V 

PAGE 

A Desert Botanical Garden 43 

The Lost Cactus Garden — The Beautiful Palo Verde — An Un- 
worked Table Decoration — The Deadly Mistletoe — The Acacia, or 
"Cat-Claw" Thorn— The Unique and Wonderful Ocatilla— A 
Bouquet of Green Wands — The Octopus of the Desert — The Iron- 
wood Tree — The Omnipresent Creosote Bush, and Its Purpose. 

CHAPTER VI 

Unrolling the Panorama of the Desert • • • • 55 

Fine Weather, Hot and Cold — The Best Kind of a Wash — Two Ravens 
Pester Our National Emblem — Coyote Mountain and Well — Hayes's 
Well and the "Well Ahead" — A Narrow Escape — A Papago In- 
dian Village — Tank- Water and Well- Water — Camp on the Santa 
Rosa Plain — Animal Life — The Passe South-western Indian — The 
Organ-Pipe Cactus. 

CHAPTER Vn 

From the Quijotoa Pass to the Mexican Oasis . 70 

The Cubo Valley — A Tj-pical Flood Basin — The Prize Giant Cactus — 
A Beautiful Camp at Wall's Well — The Ajo Lily — Montezuma's 
Head — Down the Ajo Valley — A Lava Ridge — The Grave of a 
Murdered Mexican — Across the Boundary and into Mexico. 

CHAPTER Vni 

The Sonoyta Oasis 84 

An Isolated Communit}' — Sketch of Sonoyta — Judge Traino Quiroz 
and His Family — The Sorrows of an Amateur Photographer — 
Life in Sonoyta — Fruits — Absence of Grafters — Our Ofi&cial En- 
trance into Mexico — Lieutenant Jesus Medina and the Fiscal 
Guard — An Annoying Slip of a Pen — Mr. Jeff Milton, Inspector 
of Immigration — A Man of Many " Gun " Episodes. 

CHAPTER IX 

A Small Deer Hunt to the Cubabi Mountains . . 102 

Cubabi Peak — Coyote and Skunk — Rain in the Desert — Disagreeable 
Trait in Mexican Rural Guides — A Fertile Mountain Valley — 
Enter Coues White-Tailed Deer — The Repression of Charlie — 
Death of a Doe — Its Size and Food Supply — A Down-pour and 
Darkness on the Desert — Mr. Sykes Comes in. 



CONTENTS xiii 

CHAPTER X 
Down the Sonoyta to the Lava iii 

The Start Westward— Bad Mules— "The Devil's Road"— A Ruined 
Hacienda — A Lonesome Little Cemetery — We Meet Mr. Daniels 
— The Sonoyta River in Flood — The Water-Storage Cactus — A 
Rattlesnake in Camp — Quitovaquita, on the Boundary — Rube 
Daniels's Passion for Powder — An Accident — A Japanese Incident — 
Pinacate from Afar — Another Rattlesnake in Camp. 

CHAPTER XI 
An Eventful Day at the Edge of the Lava. . . 135 

The Finest Organ-Pipes and a Red-Tailed Hawk — The Alkali Plain — 
The Ocatilla's Flower — View of Pinacate — A Much-Perforated 
Plain — The First Volcano Crater — A Circus with Prong-Homed 
Antelopes — My Locoed Coyote — The Malpais Plain — A Bridge to 
Cross a Ditch — Lost Wagons and Benighted Men — A Bivouac in 
the Desert — Rescued in Spite of Ourselves — A Long Night Ride. 

CHAPTER Xn 
The Panorama of MacDougal Pass and Volcano . 154 

In the Tule Desert — Farther Than Ever from Pinacate — The Comer 
of a Vast Volcanic Area — A Weird Cyclorama — Monument No. 
180 — A River of Verdure — Pathfinding Along the Edge of the 
Lava — ^A Volcanic Curiosity — A Great Choya Field — The Sand 
Ridge — A Galleta Meadow — The Doctor's Garden — Fresh Moun- 
tain Sheep Tracks — The Papago Tanks, Found in the Dark — Mr. 
Sykes Finds a Huge Crater — Nature's Planting on the Crater 
Floor — Two Rifle Shots. 

CHAPTER XHI 

The Papago Tanks and the Lava Fields . . . .170 

An Unpleasant Episode at MacDougal Crater — Mr. Daniels Leaves 
Us — By Pack-Train Across the Lava — The Papago Tanks — 

Aqueducts Through the Lava — Our Little Oasis The White 

Brittle-Bush — Vegetable Life on the Lava. 

CHAPTER XIV 

Extinct Volcanoes and Mountain Sheep .... 186 

A Blank Sheep Hunt to the Author's Mountains — Mr. Milton Scores 
With Two Sheep— Mr. Phillips Kills Two Rams— The Clover- 
Leaf Crater — The Sykes Crater — Awful Lava Cones — The Dead 
Ram and Its Surroundings — Mr. Phillips Tells the Story of the 
Rainbow Rams. 



xiv CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XV 

PAGE 

Dogs in Camp 204 

Doubtful Dog Experiments — The Troubles of Bob — The Troubles 
of Bob's Friends — A Dog with no Savvey — Rex and Rowdy — A 
Canine Glutton — Rowdy's Contract at the Papago Tanks — His 
Waterloo — The Sickest Dog on Record — The Bad Break of Rex. 



CHAPTER XVI 

The Cactus Display, from Tucson to Pinacate . .210 

Desert Plant Life More Interesting than Animal Life — The Cacti — The 
Giant Cactus — Its Culmination at Comobabi — Diminution South- 
ward and Westward — Structure — The Organ-Pipe Cactus — The 
Finest Specimen — The Barrel Cactus and Its Water Supply — A 
Demonstration Beside the Trail — Cactus Candy — Small Forms of 
Echinocactus — Bigelow's Accursed Choya — The Pain of an En- 
counter — Mr. Sykes's Accident — Strength of Spines — The Tree 
Choya — Opuntias — Leafless Bushes with Water-Storage Stems. 



CHAPTER XVn 

A Journey Over the Lava and Another to the Gulf 228 

Work on Specimens — Arroyos — Awful Lava Ridges and Lava Plains — 
Mutiny in the Line — The Gulf of California — Two Antelopes 
Killed on a Lava Plain — The Highway to Pinacate — The Tule 
Tanks, sans Tules — Our Camp — Mr. Sykes Goes to the Gulf, 



CHAPTER XVHI 

A Great Day With Sheep on Pinacate 241 

A Scattered Party — The Distant "Cut Bank" — View from 1,000 Feet 
Elevation — A Lost Aneroid and a Maze of Coat-Pockets — The 
Choya Peak — Hard Travelling for Human Feet — Two Sheep 
Sighted — A Run for Them — Bad Shooting and a Badly Rattled 
Sportsman — Mr. Phillips Apologizes for Killing His "Bunger" — 
Chase of a Wounded Ram — Success at Last — Moonrise over Pin- 
acate Peaks — The Lava Field by Moonlight. 



CONTENTS XV 

CHAPTER XIX 

PAGE 

The Ascent of Pinacate 256 

By Saddle Horse to the Foot of the Peaks — Weakness of the Camera 
on the Lava Beds — The Notch — Mountain Sheep — Pinacate Peak 
at Last — More Mountain Sheep — A Fearless Band and a Great 
View of It — General Aspect of the Peak — A Great Extinct Crater — 
The Climb to the Summit— A Wild Revel on the Top— The Cyclo- 
rama Below — The Sad End of the Sonoyta River — "The Big 
Red Peak" — A Circle of Photographs — Our Cairn and Record — 
The Doctor Gets His Sheep — The Flight from the Summit — Three 
Decide to "Lie Out" Near the Two Rams. 

CHAPTER XX 

"Lying-Out" on Pinacate, and the Final Sheep . 277 

A Camp-Fire in a Lava Ravine — A Dinner of Broiled Liver — The 
Resources of the Party and Their Distribution — The Gunny Sack 
as a Producer of Warmth — Mr. Phillips Takes Advantage of a 
Sleeping Comrade — The Coyotes Spoil a Museum Sheep — "Why 
Don't You Shoot that Ram?" — Curiosity Long Drawn Out — An 
Unexpected Trophy — Mr. Sykes Stalks a Mountain Sheep on 
Pinacate. 

CHAPTER XXI 

The Yarn of the Burning of the "Hilda" . . . 291 

The Characteristics of Mr. Godfrey Sykes — A Versatile and Re- 
markable Man — The Yam of the Hilda — A Quick Transforma- 
tion Scene on a Desolate Shore — A Foot-Race with Death — 
Impassable Mountains — Seven Hard-Tack for 160 Miles — A 
Tough Coyote — A Fish in Time — Swimming the Colorado — ^A 
Bean-Pot at Last — The End of Charlie McLean. 



CHAPTER XXII 

Notes on the Mammals Between Tucson and the 
Gulf 302 

Desert Conditions — The Pack-Rat and Its Wonderful Nests — The 
Kangaroo Rat — Harris's Chipmunk — No Arboreal Squirrels — 
Jack Rabbit and Cotton-Tail — The Coyote — Prong-Homed An- 
telope — Deer — Peccary. 



xvi CONTENTS 

CHAPTER XXIII 

PAGE 

November Bird Life in the Land of Little Rain . . 316 

The Disappointing Road-Runner — Gambel's Quail and Its Pursuit — 
The Wisdom of the Cactus Wren — The Crissal Thrasher's Nest — 
Western Red-Tailed Hawk — The Red-Shafted Flicker — Nests in 
the Giant Cactus — The Crows at the Papago Tanks, and a Mur- 
der — Doves — A Bittern Fishing — The Mud-Hen of Sonoyta — 
Scarcity of Reptiles in November. 

CHAPTER XXIV 

The Mountain Sheep of Mexico 329 

Bird's-eye View of the Genus Ovis — Its Vanishing Point at Pinacate — 
Straight Ovis canadensis — The Making of a New Form — Colours — 
Size — The Feet — The Pelage — The Horns, Skull, and Teeth — 
Habits — Geographical Distribution in Mexico — Summary of Facts 
and Conclusions. 

CHAPTER XXV 

The Flight from Pinacate 347 

Mountains Being Buried by Sand — The Meeting of Desert and Lava — 
Antelopes for Mr. PhiUips — The Represa Tank — The Mexican 
Wagon Wins Out — Heading for Gila Bend — The Ajo Valley — Gila 
Bend — A Dinner Fit for the Gods — Back to Civilization. 

Index 359 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The Rainbow Rams, on the Lava Peak {Colored Plate) Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Pinacate Beetle 3 

Dr. Daniel Trembly MacDougal i8 

A Lucky Strike in the Desert 30 

Filling the Water Cans at the Papago's Well 30 

Typical Arboreal Desert Plain, and Coyote Mountain .... 38 

A Typical Desert Landscape 42 

The Deadly Mistletoe at Its Worst 48 

The Beautiful Ocatilla, or "Devil's Chair" 5^ 

Papago Indian Houses and Oven, at Comobabi 64 

Adobe House at Wall's Well 64 

Mr. Sykes Reflects Gloomily over the Grave of a Murdered Mexi- 
can, beside a Creosote Bush 68 

Organ-Pipe Cactus and Young Giant Cactus 68 

Palo Verde and Mesquite Trees in a Flood Basin 70 

The Finest Giant Cactus {Colored Plate) 7^ 

Wall's Well and Montezuma's Head 7^ 

The Ghost of a Dead Industry, at Wall's Well 76 

Gambel's Quail, and Ocatilla with leaves and thorns .... 80 

Nest of Pack-Rat, in the Ajo Valley 80 

The Sonoyta River, where Desert Meets Oasis 82 

View Across the Sonoyta Oasis, Looking South-west 84 

xvii 



xviii ILLUSTRATIONS 



FACING PAGE 



Sketch Map of the Sonoyta Oasis in 1907 85 " 

"Main Street" in Sonoyta, Looking East . , 86 

Stone Mill and Forge of Judge Quiroz 90 -^ 

The Leading Citizen of Sonoyta, Judge Traino Quiroz, and His 

Family 90 

Desert Vegetation and JefF Milton (Colored Plate) 100 ^ 

Horns of Coues Deer and White-Tailed Deer 

Santo Domingo, Looking North-westward 

Details of Typical Desert Vegetation on Hilltop at Santo Domingo 

The Sonoyta River in Flood, Below Santo Domingo .... 

A Piece of Human Drift-Wood from Japan 

Mr. Milton Contemplates the Passive Rattlesnake 

The Sonoyta River, at Agua Dulce 

The Finest Organ-Pipe Cactus (Colored Plate) 

Pinacate, as It Appears from Twenty-one Miles Due North-east . 

Prong-Horned Antelopes, and Their Feeding-Grounds .... 

A Desert Botanical Garden (Colored Plate) 

The Edge of the Lava Field, MacDougal Pass 

Monument 180 on the International Boundary 

Near View of a Tree Choya and Creosote Bush 

The Outfit Coming Through MacDougal Pass (Colored Plate) . 

MacDougal Crater, from the South-east 

The Papago Tanks 

Details of the Lava Wall of the Upper Tank 

The Spiny Smoke-Tree 

The White Brittle-Bush 

Our Camp in the Oasis Below the Papago Tanks 

Sykes Crater, Looking South-eastward (Colored Plate) .... 



08 
12 
i6 ^ 
18 

24 ^ 
24 
32-^ 
36^ 
40 ' 
44 " 
54- 
56- 

59 
60- 

64- 
68 - 

76^ 
80 > 
82/ 
82 
86^ 



ILLUSTRATIONS xix 



FACING PAGE 



The Carnegie Ram on the Lava Peak 192. 

Measuring the Carnegie Ram 196^ 

The Members of the Expedition, on Porous Red Lava, at the Pa- 

pago Tanks 204^ 

Extracting Water from the Barrel Cactus, or Bisnaga . . . ,216/ 

Bigelow's Choya {Opuntia Bigelowi) 224 . 

A Broad-Leafed Prickly Pear {Opuntia), at Sonoyta .... 224 

Into the Lava Field by Pack Train 230 . 

Mr. Milton Kills Tv70 Antelopes on the Lava 234 ^ 

Mr. Sykes and the Carnegie Ram on the Red Lava Peak . , 234 

The Lava Field and Our Camp at the Tule Tank 238 / 

The Tule Tank 240 

The Lava Where the Rattled Ram Fell 246 

The Author's First Ram, and Its Lava Surroundings .... 250 

The Sheep Bed in the Lava Niche, and the Sentinel Cactus 

{Colored Plate) 252 - 

View of Pinacate Across the Lava Field, from the Tule Tank . . 256 

Carnegie Peak from the Summit of Pinacate Peak 268 

The Camp-Fire on Pinacate 282 

Fortress of a Pack-Rat at Tucson 304 

Tree Choya Cactus, Containing the Nest of a Cactus Wren . . 320 

A Cactus Tree of the Desert Botanical Garden 320 

Heads from Pinacate 330 ^ 

Left Horn of a Pincate Mountain Sheep . . 338 

The Side of the Awful Choya Peak 348 / 

The Sand Burial of the Saw-Tooth Mountains 348 



MAPS 



The Sonoran Desert Region Between Tucson and the Gulf of 

CaHfornia 22 

The Pinacate Region, North-western Sonora, Mexico , , , .no 



CAMP-FIRES ON 
DESERT AND LAVA 




Pinacate Beetle {Rhodes armata) 

The " Bug-that-stands-on-his-head " 



CAMP-FIRES ON 
DESERT AND LAVA 

CHAPTER I 

MOVING PICTURES OF THE IRON TRAIL 

Pinacate, the Mystery — ^A Desert Experience and an Exploration — Dr. 
Daniel Trembly MacDougal — Moving Pictures of the South-west — 
Four State Corners in One Day — The Threshold of the Great 
Desert Region — ^New Mexico — Two Oases — El Paso, and the 
Small Rio Grande — The Dreariest Deserts — Arrival at Tucson. 

To every intelligent human being — so far as heard 
from — there is something fascinating in the idea of ex- 
ploring the unknown and mapping the mysterious. 

Dear Reader, would you like a swift flight over a 
south-western wonderland, that to you and to me will be 
like a visit to another world ? Would you be pleased to 
go where everything is strange and weird and different ? 
Would you like to go hunting in the most wonderful 
desert region of all America, visit an odd Mexican oasis, 
and play pathfinder to grim and blasted Pinacate ? Then 
come with me: for this time the game is worth the 
candle. 

It is not yet a calendar month since we struck He-la. 
Bend (they spell it G-i-l-a), after a glorious month on the 
trail and in camp, and climbed aboard the Golden State 



4 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Limited. We were half dead with strenuous exploring, 
but serenely happy in the possession of countless treasures 
stored up for future enjoyment. 

That jaunt was undertaken as a particularly choice 
desert trip, combined with some actual exploration in 
a land of absolute mystery, and hunting such as the red 
gods might permit. For more years than one likes to 
confess I had longed to become acquainted with the great 
south-western desert region, and had suffered mortifi- 
cation because so many years had passed over my head 
without an opportunity to do so. But to him who waits 
with Determination, all things come to pass. 

On a whizzing cold night in January, 1907, Dr. 
Daniel Trembly MacDougal said to me: 

*' Look here! I wish you to go with me on a fine desert 
trip, in the near future; and I also wish you to know 
that there are mighty few men whom I ever invite to go 
with me into the deserts. When I say that I would really 
like to have you go with me, I mean it!" 

Recently Dr. MacDougal was the Assistant Director 
of the New York Botanical Gardens. He is now Director 
of the Department of Botanical Research of the Carnegie 
Institution of Washington, with headquarters at the 
Desert Botanical Laboratory, Tucson, Arizona. He is a 
botanist of distinction, a desert specialist of the first 
magnitude, and a jolly good fellow all the time and 
everywhere. It seemed to me that my Hour had at last 
arrived. In one fleeting moment a compact was closed 
and the event fixed. After long and careful deliberation, 
we decided to go overland from Tucson to Sonoyta, 



MOVING PICTURES OF THE IRON TRAIL 5 

Mexico, and explore the unknown country round about 
Pinacate Peak. 

Pinacate, the mysterious! On two or three maps it 
appears as a small blotch in the midst of a great blank. 
On two of those maps it is far out of its proper place. 
Admiral Dewey, when a commander, surveyed the Gulf 
of California, and from the deck of his ship located the 
peak with very fair accuracy. For two hundred years of 
historic times the country surrounding Pinacate has been 
totally unexplored, and wholly unknown save to a few 
Papago Indians, and possibly one or two local Mexicans 
who are unknown beyond the Sonoyta Oasis. And yet, 
curiously enough, Sonoyta has been known and occupied 
by Mexicans for at least two centuries. 

Why, we asked each other, is the Pinacate region un- 
known ? Why is it that no American traveller, no ex- 
plorer, geographer, sportsman or naturalist ever has set 
foot in that area, nor mapped its mysteries ? Why is it 
that no white man outside of Sonoyta knows where the 
lower half of the Sonoyta River runs ? Some one has 
said that the river runs north of the mountain, and two 
maps show it that way; but does it? And where does it 
end ? It must be a terribly difficult region to have so long 
remained unmapped. We reasoned that the absence of 
water was at the bottom of the well of mystery. 

From January until October Dr. MacDougal's con- 
stant efforts at Tucson failed to find even one man who 
ever had been through the Pinacate region, or who knew 
how to reach the mountain. The report of the last 
International Boundary Commission — an admirable series 



6 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

of maps and documents — contains only one three-line 
reference to Pinacate. 

And so it was that up to November, 1907, the Sphinx 
of Pinacate had not spoken, and the mystery remained. 
On November 2 — but let us not ignore the ante-chamber 
to our Wonderland. There are many things of interest 
this side of Tucson, and a few that we cannot ignore. 
From Topeka to Tucson (not Tuck'-son, but Too-sohn^) 
the moving pictures are well worth while. 

It is in southwestern Kansas that one sits up straight 
and begins to take note of the flight of the world. When 
the Golden State Limited of the luxurious Rock Island 
route has passed Alma, perceptibly loses its speed, and 
for five minutes or more runs slowly, you notice that 
something new is happening. It is the southern water- 
shed of the Kansas River, and in about ten miles it rises 
nearly 400 feet. The beautiful maples and cottonwoods 
of the Kansas valley disappear actually before your eyes, 
and a vast stretch of smooth and almost treeless prairie 
rises like magic. 

The engine labours, but half speed is the only result. 
As you crane your neck around the north-eastern corner 
of the observation car to look ahead, you see black smoke, 
a black mass of iron and a siding. Presently, like a 
wounded snake, the train drags its slow length along, and 
passes a big, rusty, untidy-looking locomotive that stands 
alone on the side-track, like a solitary buffalo bull with 
his old coat but half shed. Its iron sides are patched and 
stained with rust, and it looks as if not having seen the 
inside of a round-house for a year and a day. 



MOVING PICTURES OF THE IRON TRAIL 7 

As the last car clears the end of the switch we notice 
that a man stands there, and with some haste the switch 
is thrown. A moment later the towering black mass 
ghdes out upon the main track, pauses an instant, then 
comes rushing after us. 

The old buffalo bull is charging us! 

Puffing and snorting, he rushes up close, thrusts out a 
tongue of steel, and licks our coupler. A grimy keeper 
waves an arm. The old bull bellows twice, then, hang! — 
we are butted straight ahead. Our train starts forward 
at twice its former speed, regardless of the grade. 

Mile after mile we go, our black helper puffing and 
swaying until at last we reach the top of the water-shed at 
Alta Vista. There the old buffalo withdraws his tongue, 
shuts off his steam, and halts to wave a black smoke- 
wreath in farewell. It was a long climb, and the roof of 
Kansas now looks very bald, indeed. 

In one short half day on the Sunset Limited you see 
Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico, and the 
flatness of the world at those four corners is really beyond 
compare. Mile after mile and hour after hour there is 
naught but treeless prairies, as level as a lake. Any land 
ten feet high would be a hill of notable proportions. 
There are no hills; but there are farms by the thousand, 
each tiny wooden homestead marked by its own indis- 
pensable windmill. Once I counted twenty-four wind- 
mills in sight simultaneously on the eastern side of the 
line, each one a monument to agricultural endeavour. 

Although very new, the country looks decidedly pros- 
perous, for the dwellings are painted, and the barns and 



8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

sheds are — for a new country — luxurious. The young 
trees, that nearly always furnish a setting for each home- 
stead unit, even now are very much in evidence. At 
present, to a lover of pastoral scenery, the country looks a 
trifle monotonous and uneventful, but in the season of 
green things it must make a really beautiful picture of 
thrift and prosperity. 

It is good to see people scattering thus over the face of 
Nature, and by strength and keenness winning for them- 
selves good clean homes and independence, instead of 
piling up like senseless human sheep of one idea, as do so 
many millions of people in the congested East. Every 
effort at making a farm, a ranch and an independent, 
self-supporting American Home is entitled to the highest 
respect; and as the train speeds by the checkerboard 
farms of Oklahoma and adjacent states, we wish the 
home-makers God-speed with all our hearts. 

But this picture soon dissolves from view, and we 
enter the great arid region of the South-west. Speaking 
generally, we may say that the deserts of eastern New 
Mexico begin a few miles south of the town with the 
melodious Indian name of Tucumcari. Here ends the 
farm, and here begins the ranch, the naked and rocky 
buttes, and the gray and melancholy wastes of low mes- 
quite and greasewood brush. Here begins the always- 
green yucca, or "soap-weed," * which looks like an 
understudy of the well-known but more robust Spanish 
bayonet. It stays with us more or less continuously to 
the eastern line of Arizona, where it ceases to be a notable 

* Yucca radiosa. 



MOVING PICTURES OF THE IRON TRAIL 9 

feature of the desert vegetation. It reaches its zenith 
just north of El Paso, where over hundreds of acres it 
grows so thickly and luxuriantly that it has the appearance 
of being cultivated. What a pity 'tis that this thrifty 
plant is of no important use to man! 

For some distance down from Tucumcari, the agri- 
cultural energy of the north has overflowed on the deserts 
of New Mexico; and on many odd bits of debatable 
ground, beside hopelessly inadequate water-holes, plucky 
men and lonesome women are striving to create homes 
and land values, and rear stock. Here you see the first 
signs of the great struggle between Man and Desert which 
is going on over a wide empire of territory stretching 
fifteen hundred miles from western Texas to the Pacific 
Ocean. This is now our Irrepressible Conflict; and its 
features and phases are of very great interest and impor- 
tance to this nation. 

Not far below Tucumcari you see the first adobe 
houses, quickly picked out by their flat tops, their walls 
of brown earth, their tiny windows and meagre dimen- 
sions. To this day I am wondering how on earth those 
practically level earth roofs ever shed rain. We can 
understand their small windows, because in this mid- 
summer glare of 130 degrees Fahrenheit, the darkness of 
those earthen boxes is much cooler, or, I should say, a 
little less fiercely hot — than would be a well-lighted room. 

Three-quarters of the way down the eastern desert of 
New Mexico we come to a practical demonstration of 
what water can do for aridity. At Tularosa there ap- 
pears, a mile away to the eastward, and seemingly at the 



10 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

foot of the Sierra Blanca, a mass of green jungle stretching 
away north and south. There are at least half a dozen 
shades of green in that lovely bank of foliage, and in front 
of it lie level meadows of alfalfa as green as the finest 
malachite. This means irrigation. 

By way of contrast, the brushy desert on the other 
side of the railway stretches away twelve miles to the 
west, dull and hopeless, until it meets the waves of a 
billowy desert called the White Sands, that seem to wash 
the eastern base of the San Andreas Mountains. That 
desert of glistening white gypsum sand-dunes is a sur- 
prising feature. With our glasses we try hard to get the 
details of its waves, and the bits of plant life that seem 
to float upon it like so much wreckage on a heaving sea. 
The glistening strip of sand — about eight miles wide — 
seems brilliantly white in contrast with the dark gray 
desert in front and the gloomy mountains beyond. They 
say that under the action of the prevaihng westerly winds 
it is slowly moving eastward. 

But the Tularosa Oasis is only a curtain-raiser to what 
lies thirteen miles beyond. At the western foot of the 
really imposing Sacramento Mountains lies Alamogordo, 
and there the train halts with a thrill of pride that vibrates 
clear through it from cow-catcher to rear platform. 

"Trees! Trees! Look at the Trees! 

*'And water! Running water! 

**Is that an orchard?" 

"By all the powers, it is a public Park!" 

"Then where is the Zoo?" 

"Right over yonder. Get onto that live bear!" 



MOVING PICTURES OF THE IRON TRAIL ii 

It was all true, as set forth in the exclamations of the 
alighting passengers. There was really a public park of 
unknown acres of cottonwood trees set in rows, with 
running water close beside them laving their greedy roots. 
Between the tree-rows grass grew. Yes, there really was 
a live zoological black bear, in a very good wire cage, on 
public exhibition; and we respectfully remind the world 
that a zoological park is the high-water mark of civiliza- 
tion. 

Alamogordo is truly an oasis of the first water. The 
enacting clause of this pretty place comes from the 
Sacramento Mountains, on the top of which is the sum- 
mer sanitarium and refuge of El Paso at Cloudcroft, 
twenty-six miles up by rail. In this oasis are grown 
fruits, alfalfa, shade trees and vegetables galore. 

On the station platform, a sad-visaged Mexican of 
Indian descent was selling apples that were as yellow as 
gold, three for "dos reales" (twenty-five cents). So 
great was the novelty of golden-yellow apples for sale in 
a desert that the stock went off like a shot. Long live 
Alamogordo; and may it escape the fire that usually 
wipes out every frontier town at least once. 

The country immediately north of El Paso is pictu- 
resque, but sadly desolate; and El Paso itself seems like 
a city that has been built in cheerful defiance of all possi- 
ble discouragements. The size of it, and the seriousness 
with which it has been made, are amazing; but the ride 
in to its Union Station is certainly the slowest railroading 
on earth. It seems like four miles an hour; but I would 
not do even a railroad an injustice, especially in Texas. 



12 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

In ten minutes all my preconceived expectations re- 
garding the Rio Grande, the bridge across it, and the 
Mexican shore, were rudely wiped off the slate. Instead 
of low banks, a wide river-bed, a long bridge and a flat 
hinterland in Mexico, everything was exactly the opposite. 
The banks were high, the river runs through a very 
decided gorge, both stream and gorge are absurdly nar- 
row, and the bridge is ridiculously short. I did not 
measure it, but the stream looks about four hundred feet 
wide. The White River at Indianapolis is nearly double 
the size of it. But we must remember that any river in 
a dry land is a Great Thing, and deserves to be made much 
of; so we forgive the Rio Grande for not being quite so 
Grande as imagination called for, and accept it as the 
biggest thing of the kind between the Mississippi and the 
Colorado. 

After a very brief " pasear" * across the corner of 
Texas, we are again in New Mexico, and the deserts are 
dreary enough. The only interesting plant is the yucca, 
and the attempts at ranching and stock-raising are so 
difficult they make one feel sad. The worst of it is, 
irrigation seems only a dream, for there is no water any- 
where that by the wildest stretch of the imagination can 
be called available for anything outside the narrow strip 
of lands close beside the Rio Grande. 

Strategically, it is all right for the finest desert region 
in Arizona to burst upon us in the purlieus of Tucson, 
after we have left the Golden State Limited. But it is 

* In northern Mexico, a pleasure trip of any kind is lightly spoken of as a 
"pas-e-ar"' — a Spanish word that means "walk." 



MOVING PICTURES OF THE IRON TRAIL 13 

rather hard on Tucson that no one can take it or leave it 
save in the smallest and most gruesome hours of the night. 
Going or coming, the train passes through between one 
o'clock and three a.m., provided the trains are on time. 
There is no such thing as making two daily visits to the 
depot to see the trains come in; and the habitant with 
time on his hands loses much. 

By good luck, our outward train was nearly four hours 
late, and we slept the night through until gray dawn. 
Then we alighted in a rain, if you please, and found the 
streets delightfully muddy ! In the immortal word of our 
most-recently-arrived English cousin, "Fahncy!" Mud in 
Arizona ! 

Taking it as a good omen, we domiciled at the Santa 
Rita (very well, indeed), rang up the Doctor on the tele- 
phone, and dared him to come on with his old outfit and 
make good. 



CHAPTER II : 

TUCSON, AND THE DESERT BOTANICAL LABORATORY 

The Amphitheatre of Tucson — A Demoralized Compass — The Santa 
Cruz River — The Flavour of Mexico— The Yaqui Indian and His 
Industry — Impressions of Tucson — The University of Arizona — 
The Hand of the Carnegie Institution of Washington — The Desert 
Botanical Laboratory, its Plant, and its Problems. 

A WIDE-SPREADING, widc-awake little city on a level, 
sub-tropical plain that is encircled by granite mountains; 
a city with a strong Mexican accent, a city neither fast 
nor slow; a city with wide, clean streets, good buildings, 
abundant electricity and all the respectable concomitants 
of a metropolis — this is Tucson, Queen City of cactus- 
land. I 

Its elevation above the sea is 2,200 feet. 

The ampitheatre of Tucson is thoroughly satisfactory. 
The plain lies as level as a lake, and it is almost encircled 
by steep and rugged mountains of gray granite that seem 
to rise only just beyond the corporate limits. North-east- 
ward the splendid mass of the Santa Catalina Mountains 
looms up grandly, its highest peak only seventeen miles 
from the University. Eastward and a little farther away 
is the hazy-blue Rincon Range. Westward rises the 
brown and mostly bare Sierra Tucson, and in the north 
the view is bounded by the Tortolitas. The very nearest 

14 



THE DESERT BOTANICAL LABORATORY 15 

mountains of all are Tumanroc and Sentinel Hills, which 
actually rise and shine almost within the city Umits. 

The Southern Pacific Railway flows through Tucson 
from south-east to north-west. As an engineering prop- 
osition it is easier for it to go through passes on a dead 
level than to cUmb mountains; but as a base line for a 
stranger it is a dismal failure. In no other city of my 
acquaintance are the points of the compass so horribly 
wrong as in Tucson. I think it would take me about 
ten years to become reconciled to the wild antics of the 
magnetic needle in that otherwise sober and steady 

spot. 

The brave little Santa Cruz River which attempts to 
run through Tucson, but is held up and robbed at every 
turn, actually rises in southern Arizona, but makes a loop 
away down into Mexico, below Nogales, nearly a hundred 
miles away. It seems strange that a stream so very 
small could come so far alone through the desert without 
getting lost. But this is a land of queer things. 

When you land at Tucson, in the cold gray dawn of 
the morning after, the first man to welcome you is a half- 
Mexican carriage driver (there being no such thing as a 
"keb" in the Real West), and thereafter, about every 
other man and woman is like unto him. After the dis- 
gusting Bowery English of New York in the mouths of 
swashbuckling drivers, conductors and shop-girls of a 
hundred kinds, it is really a pleasure to strike something 
less raucous in sound and in sense. The Mexican may 
have his faults, but his language does not grate on the ear 
like the filing of a rip-saw. 



i6 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Yes, Tucson is full of Mexicans, both pure-bred, 
Indian and American mixed. You meet them almost 
everywhere, and every one of the dozen or more who were 
called upon to render service to us proved eminently 
satisfactory. I am told that many Yaqui Indians come 
from Mexico up to this city, hire out as labourers, and 
work hard to earn dollars, to buy Winchesters and car- 
tridges, to take home by stealth, to use in the killing, quite 
impartially, of both Mexicans and Americans. Going or 
coming, the Yaqui Indian is a tough citizen, and the 
quicker the entire tribe is extradited to the happy hunting 
grounds farther south, the better for Mexico. 

Although Tucson is a city with a flavour of Mexican 
chillis, externally it does not look it. It is thoroughly 
modern, with adaptations to the climate. Its beautiful 
Carnegie Library, its State University, its imposing Santa 
Rita Hotel of Spanish architecture, its hospital and its 
schools speak to the Discerning of modern thought and 
enterprise. True, the absence of ten thousand vacant 
"lots" covered with twenty thousand tons of ghastly 
rubbish makes a resident of New York feel very lone- 
some; but, then, Tucson is new, and the herds of human 
cattle from the overcrowded cities of southern Europe 
have not yet arrived. 

It may be that Tucson has its seamy side— its mid- 
summer heat, its dust, dryness and perspiration, its too 
much this or that; but in November, a. d. 1907, every- 
thing was as it should be. The whole city was very much 
to our mind; and we do not even lay up aught against 
mine host of the Hotel Santa Rita who, when requested 



THE DESERT BOTANICAL LABORATORY 17 

to get up a special course dinner for six gentlemen, was 
utterly unable to do more than lamely offer the bill of 
fare in evidence, and stand pat. He did not seem to 
know how to lure a tenderfoot by subtle degrees of tempta- 
tion from his proposed ^2.00 per plate up to ^5.00 and 
make him pay for the experience. 

We found the sister of Tucson Jenny in the dining- 
room of the Santa Rita. Her smile was bright, and her 
hair was the colour of the lava on the hill above the 
Papago Tanks. Mrs. Rucker, of the O. K. Restaraw, 
had left town, but a little later on, at a most important 
crisis in our lives, we found her in Hela Bend. 

If it is good to make two blades of grass grow where 
only one grew before, surely the men who make a Uni- 
versity in a desert shall acquire Merit, and deserve much 
from their fellow-men. Even in the rainy and productive 
states, the making of a seat of learning that shall endure 
is no child's play; and the taking of a hundred acres 
of waterless gravel and creosote bushes, and creating 
thereon a genuine University, with various schools, is an 
achievement that fairly challenges our admiration. Full 
of enthusiasm, we started out by electric car to penetrate 
those classic walls, felicitate President Babcock, and gloat 
over Mr. Herbert Brown's admirable museum infant; 
but our joy was short-lived. Dr. MacDougal presently 
confessed that he had pledged that I should talk to the 
students from eleven o'clock until noon— and he had 
almost forgotten to mention it to me until it was all over! 
When this calamitous situation burst upon me, my first 
thought was of flight; but afterward I decided that, being 



i8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

in Arizona, I must emulate Dave Tutt of Wolfville, and 
for once try to be *'a dead-game gent." 

Despite the terrors of the rostrum, it was a pleasure to 
see the bright-faced, open-eyed young people, co-eds and 
others, who filled the chapel very full, and bravely took 
their medicine. 

I like the small colleges and universities of the bound- 
ing West; for verily, their work is just as great as is that 
of the great universities of the farther East. 

Once upon a time the Carnegie Institution of Wash- 
ington decided that the vast arid regions of the south-west 
needed a laboratory devoted to the study of the physiology 
of the plant life of the deserts — or words to that effect. 

Having the price safely cached in Hoboken, the In- 
stitution looked about for a Man. It found Dr. Daniel 
Trembly MacDougal, then Assistant-Director of the New 
York Botanical Gardens. There being no rival or second 
choice, nominations were closed, and he was unanimously 
elected Director of the Desert Botanical Laboratory, to be. 

In due course, Dr. MacDougal intimated to the prole- 
tariat of Tucson his behef that the D. B. L. might do 
worse than settle in their midst. Forthwith, the Tucson 
Board of Trade carried the botanist to the top of a high 
mountain close by, and showed the world that lay at his 
feet. 

"All this," said the Board, "shall be thine, and more, 
if thou wilt pitch thy tent herein, and become one of us." 

A mountain of many moods and tenses, and a belt of 
plain around it, both of them covered with weird things 
with stickers all over them, was offered, as it were, on a 



THE DESERT BOTANICAL LABORATORY 19 

silver plate. Inasmuch as the site was the finest bit of 
real estate for the purpose in all the south-west, Tucson's 
offer was blithely accepted; and thus was born into the 
world the Desert Botanical Laboratory. 

Behold, then, at the western end of Main Street, a 
rugged gray hill eight hundred feet high, its summit 
crowned even to-day by the rough stone parapet of what 
once was an Indian fortification. 

As we drove briskly westward on Main Street, crossed 
the Santa Cruz River almost without knowing it, and ap- 
proached the foot of the botanical mountain, I framed 
up a fooHsh question. I was about to say, "Why are your 
fence posts so tall, and so irregular?" But for once I 
wisely held my peace; and presently it was clear that all 
those seeming tall straight posts running up the mountain 
on the southern sky-line were giant cacti, without side- 
arms. They stood all over the plain, and climbed up all 
sides of the mountain, quite to its summit. The stony 
sterility of the steep slopes easily accounted for the ab- 
sence of branches; for both soil and water were there 
reduced to their lowest common denominator. 

North of the botanical mountain, and also within the 
sheltering steel spines of the wire fence, there lies a 
glorious stretch of level valley, of good soil, and good 
water when water is falling. And, dear Reader, a word 
in your ear. If you care aught for the botanical wonders 
of the Arizona deserts, it will pay you as you hie westward 
to stop off at Tucson, regardless of bad hours, and spend 
half a day in the Desert Botanical Laboratory's nature 
garden. Truly, it is a botanical garden, an epitome of 



20 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

} 
the wonderland of arid vegetation that stretches from 

Tucson a good hundred miles westward. There will you 

find the stately giant cactus, the choya — or "choUa" — of 

evil reputation, opuntias galore, the lovely palo verde, the 

tough mesquite, the omnipresent creosote bush, and the 

most remarkable fortification of a pack rat (Neotoma) 

that can be found in forty leagues of travel. 

On a shoulder of the mountain, about half-way up to 
the summit, stands a spacious building of rough stone, 
gathered and hewn on the premises, which is the Lab- 
oratory de facto. It is a hundred and twenty feet long 
by thirty wide, and from vestibule to back stairs it is truly 
something new under the sun. Here are studied the ways 
and means of the desert plants: their roots, their stems, 
and their leaves when they have any; their powers of 
absorption and retention of moisture; their fate in various 
soils; the effect upon them of unusual humidity; the 
transplantation of desert species; and goodness knows 
how many other things. A member of the staff. Dr. 
Livingston, was just then putting the finishing touches 
to an instrument invented by him for the easy and sure 
determination of the amount of moisture in any desert 
atmosphere; and duplicate copies of it were about to be 
distributed for use in various scientific institutions through- 
out the arid region. 

"Do you see that tall, light-coloured peak over yon- 
der?" said Director MacDougal, pointing north-eastward 
across the valley to one of the highest peaks of the Santa 
Catalinas. 

"Yes." 



THE DESERT BOTANICAL LABORATORY 21 

"That is Mount Lemmon, and to the foot of that peak 
is seventeen miles, as the raven could fly if he wished. 
Within a mile of the foot of that light-coloured wall of 
rock we have an experimental mountain plantation, in 
the pine belt, at an elevation of 8,000 feet. We have had 
to put a good wire fence around it to keep the deer and 
mountain sheep from browsing on our experiments!" 

"And just what is it that you hope to accomplish with 
this new botanical plant ? " 

"We are studying the conditions in order to learn the 
forces that have been concerned in the origination of these 
desert forms, and the principles which control their dis- 
tribution and existence at the present time. Our results 
may materially modify many of the major conclusions of 
botanical science. The prevailing generalizations are 
mostly based on a study of plants of the tropic and tem- 
perate zones, made indoors, while our work is in the 
midst of an undisturbed vegetation, and among types but 
little known. The results will depend entirely upon what 
we find out that is new and hitherto untried. At present 
we do not expect to conduct extensive practical experi- 
ments here. They naturally belong to the state and 
national experimental stations. Our work is to furnish 
them with new facts, and with theories to try out." 

With the thousands of square miles of fertile deserts 
in our south-western empire — deserts which to-day are 
green all over with their own peculiar but economically 
valueless desert flora, and only waiting for valuable plants 
that are as tough as the mesquite and creosote bush, it is 
well worth while for the American people to enter more 



22 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

seriously into the problems of the arid regions. Water is 
not necessarily the only thing that can make a desert of 
first-class use to man. Perhaps there is much to be done 
with plant life alone. 

It is the view of at least one layman that when the 
Carnegie Institution of Washington took up the problem*' 
of the deserts, chose Dr. MacDougal and established the 
Laboratory at Tucson, it did the best piece of work for 
Pan-America that it has done thus far. It seems to me 
that we should not expect much in or of the mountains of 
Arizona, except prospect holes, ''mines" and mining com- 
panies in endless-chain rotation. Steep-sided pyramids 
of bare granite and hills of bare brown lava can hardly 
be made to bloom with roses; but with the level floor of 
fertile desert that covers four-fifths of Arizona and New 
Mexico, it needs no great wisdom to inspire the belief that 
much may yet be done. 

" I am the Desert; bare since Time began; 
Yet do I dream of motherhood, when man 
One day at last will look upon my charms, 
And give me towns, like children, to my arms." 



CHAPTER III 

TRAILING INTO A NEW WORLD 

Our Social Register — A Model Outfit — A New and Different World — 
An Encounter with Indians — Our First Accident Averted — A 
Cattle Ranch Around a Desert Well — Animal Life of the First Day 
— The First Camp-Fire. 

On the morning of November 2 our outfit was assem- 
bled in the compound of Dr. MacDougal's bungalow, 
near the University, and I opine that it was as nearly 
perfect as any that ever took the trail in Arizona. 

As became a party bent on a serious exploration, the 
personnel of the party showed a wide range of talent. 
Categorically, the following were among those present as 
we trailed from Tucson 140 miles down to Sonoyta, 
Mexico: 

Dr. D. T. MacDougal, commander-in-chief; botanist, 
expert photographer, sportsman — and a mighty good shot 
with his old Winchester carbine. 

Mr. John M. Phillips, of "Camp-Fires in the Canadian 
Rockies," and Pittsburgh; iron manufacturer, Pennsyl- 
vania State Game Commissioner, expert sportsman, and 
expert photographer of everything in general. 

Mr. Godfrey Sykes, the Arizona Wonder; formerly of 
England, now Superintendent of Buildings and Grounds, 
and Right-Hand Man, at the Desert Botanical Labora- 

23 



24 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

tory; official geographer to the expedition; also civil 
engineer, mechanical expert, wonderful wagon-fixer, and 
very agreeable gentleman. 

The Present Incumbent; zoologist and chief taxider- 
mist; sportsman; and amateur photographer on the side. 
Frank Coles, of Tucson; wagon-master, chief packer, 
and cook. 

Jesse T. Jenkins of Tucson; general assistant to 
Coles; ex-Texas-cowboy; good story-teller, and per- 
manent jester to the outfit. 

Charlie Foster, a Mexican from Sonoyta, whom Jeff 
Milton, our friend of the Boundary, had sent up to pilot 
us down to Sonoyta. He rode his own horse, and always 
went ahead, to show us what roads not to take. He 
saved us much mental wear and tear, and possibly more. 
The Bay Team; wheel-horses to the White- Water 
touring car, and a little thin to start with. 

Bill and Maude; a pair of small mules, one size 
larger than jack rabbits, the leaders for the White- Water. 
They were far too small for the wheelers. 

The Black Team, consisting of a rather lazy horse 
and a wildly ambitious and beautiful young mare, draw- 
ing the runabout. 

Bob, an inexperienced young dog with a fox-terrier 
strain, belonging to Frank Coles, utterly devoid of savvy, 
and always in trouble. At the outset he seemed to be all 
right as a possible camp-dog, to chase away skunks and 
coyotes; but he was far from wagon-wise, and got hurt 
twice. But there are worse dogs than Bob; for he was 
an affectionate little soul, and he knew enough to let a 



TRAILING INTO A NEW WORLD 



25 



bandage stay on his leg unchewed, until taken off by the 
head nurse. 

But for Bill and Maude, I think our outfit would have 
been quite perfect; and the only trouble with them was 
that Nature cut them after a horse pattern that was 
decidedly too small. 

Our leading vehicle was a four-horse-power White- 
Water touring car with an automatic tonneau, a spring 
seat, a canvas cover and four superfluous bows. This 
regularly carried a ton of freight, a chauffeur, three men, 
forty gallons of water, a dog, and half-a-gallon of small 
stones on the running-board to throw at "Bill." After 
this came a two-horse-power runabout by Callahan, with 
a canvas top, half a dozen cameras, six guns, four bed- 
rolls, two live men and eight dead quail. Safely cached 
in various parts of the above cars were four saddles and 
five pack-saddles, for use on extra horses and mules that 
were awaiting us in Sonoyta. 

Our outfit had been most carefully made up by Dr. 
MacDougal and Mr. Sykes, and the greater portion of it 
came out of the regular desert-exploration equipment that 
has been accumulated by the Laboratory for official use. 

Next to our own food and the horse feed, the most 
important item was four light wooden cases, each contain- 
ing two five-gallon cans of tin, made square, like kerosene 
cans, to carry forty gallons of water, and be handled with 
celerity. Each member of the party provided for himself 
a sleeping-bag, or bed, of the type that most strongly ap- 
pealed to him. Each of the four principals carried his 
individual canteen, rifle, binocular, camera and medicine- 



26 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 



1 



box. When we made up our pack-train at MacDougal 
Pass for the last dash to Pinacate, my entire outfiti 
weighed 52 pounds, that of Mr. PhilHps 48, Mr. Sykes* 
roll scaled 43 and Dr. MacDougal took first prize with ai 
package weighing— without his camera and fixings— only 
36 pounds. 

But I anticipate. During the first days on the trail, 
the outfit of a large party does not immediately resolve 
itself into its component parts. It takes time to bring 
out the little mysteries and surprises that have been hidden 
in the depths of war-sacks, for production in times of 
stress and peril. Now, that special ten pounds of lunch- 
eon chocolate which Mr. Phillips thoughtfully bought and 
cached in the load on the sly, certainly did save our lives, 
several times each, in the awful lava beds around Pinacate. 

When you take the trail westward from Tucson, and 
begin to look upon undisturbed Nature, you quickly 
realize that the world is different. Everything is not only 
new, but totally strange. By the time you have walked 
ahead of the outfit to the summit of Roble's Pass, with 
Tucson Mountain looming up on your right, you are 
ready to exclaim, 

"This is another world!" 

There is not one familiar-looking rock, plant or tree! 

But for the fact that the giant cacti which stand all 
over the mountain-sides like silent sentinels are pale 
green instead of gray, they would resemble the dead tree- 
trunks of a burnt-timber district; but their healthy green 
colour and their accordion plaits give them an appearance 
of good health and prosperity that forever removes them 



i TRAILING INTO A NEW WORLD 27 

jfrom the dead-tree class. Here at Tucson, the giant 
[cactus, or saguaro (sa-war'ro) develops few branches, 
and on the bare rocks of the mountains the limbless, 
straight stem is the rule. It is this strange plant, more 
than any other, that gives the key-note to the landscape, 
and that most strongly impresses upon the mind of the 
traveler the fact that this is another world! 

During our ten-mile ride and walk through the main 
pass of the Tucson Range the giant cactus grew in great 
abundance. In the arroyos, in the pass and on the 
mountain-sides they grew literally everywhere — thousands 
of them. Many of them were very large, and well 
branched. The branches run all the way from round 
green knobs the size of a foot-ball to massive branches 
twenty feet long and as thick through as a man's body. 
The variety of arms is simply endless. It would take a 
string of about seven figures to represent the number of 
variations in giant cacti that we saw between Tucson 
and Sonoyta. But it was not in the Tucson mountains 
that we found this splendid creation at its best. That 
came a few days later, and I had a flash of genius when 
we came to the very finest one — ^which will be set forth 
anon. 

The giant cactus prevailed throughout the ten miles 
of Pass through the Tucson Mountians, but as soon as 
we reached the level floor of the desert it stopped abruptly, 
and we saw it no more until the next mountain chain was 
reached. Locally, and in Mexicano, it is known as the 
saguaro; and that name is also spelled sahuaro. 

A brisk ride of about four miles down grade from 



28 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the summit of Roble's Pass brings the outfit down to the 
main floor of the desert, at the eastern edge of the Avra 
Valley. But where is the barren, lifeless waste of drifting 
sand, desolation and danger that naturally rises in the 
mind of the uninitiated reader whenever deserts are 
mentioned ? Clearly, it is not here. 

We see ahead of us, stretching away mile after mile 
to far-distant ranges of hazy-blue mountains, a vast 
plain, level as a race-course, but completely covered with 
cheerful-looking verdure growing about waist high to a 
man on foot. Instead of being a gray and melancholy 
waste, however, like the sage-brush flats of Montana and 
Wyoming, this great garden is green — persistently, cheer- 
fully, even delightfully green! And you do not see any- 
where even so much as half an acre of perfectly bare and 
verdureless ground. True, there is bare ground between 
these green clumps of creosote and mesquite bushes; 
but that is only a bit of novelty in Nature's planting 
scheme. 

How very unlike the desert of our expectations! Let 
us call it, for truth's sake, an arboreal desert. 

By the middle of the afternoon we were in the middle 
of the vast green plain that lies between the Tucson 
Mountains and the Coyote Range, twenty-five miles to 
the south-westward. The sun was then at its hottest, 
and the party was drinking heavily. No one was openly 
complaining of aught, however, and everything was going 
bravely on until two Papago Indians were seen coming 
toward us on the trail, driving a wagon loaded with — 
watermelons! 



TRAILING INTO A NEW WORLD 29 

Instantly each member of our party was galvanized 
into a state of wild activity. Weapons were unlimbered, 
and cartridge belts were robbed without mercy. No one 
openly proposed bloodshed, but it was plain that each man 
had resolved that the coming load should not pass by 
our outfit unscathed. If there must be another Indian 
outrage, why there was no better place for it than in 
that silent plain, where graves might be had for the 
asking. 

The unfortunate red men took an inventory of our 
fighting strength, and made low sounds of despair. 

"Hello, there! Stop immediately!" was our com- 
mand. 

The Indians drove out on the south side of the road, 
stopped their team in echelon, and prepared to sell their 
lives as dearly as possible. 

"Sell us some of those melons, or die!" shouted our 
war-chief; and the party held its fire, for a reply. 

"Two bits! Muy dulce!" (very sweet), said one of the 
Papagoes, as plain as print. 

His life was saved. There was a rush to the end-gate 
of his wagon, and while four men selected melons, the 
Man-with-Silver dug up coin. 

It was a wild, disgraceful orgie. Like a pack of 
wolves falling upon a wounded antelope, we flung our- 
selves down in the shade of our wagon, ripped open those 
helpless melons and gorged. Notwithstanding the heat 
of the day, they were surprisingly cool — and delicious! 
Up to that moment we had not realized how hungry and 
thirsty we were — for watermelons. Like the small boy 



30 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

with the whole pumpkin pie, the only drawback to their 
goodness was the fact that they mussed up our ears. 

Mr. Phillips was the only man who retained his 
presence of mind, but we missed him not until we heard 
the deadly click of his camera. 

**Oh, stop that down, and get in here before it's all 
gone!" cried a friendly voice; and the next moment he 
was as busy as the rest of us. Bob Dog asked me to give 
him some melon, and when I did so, he joyously ate a 
lot of it, and thanked me. 

An hour after the watermelon debauch we came ever 
so near to achieving a serious accident. Jess Jenkins, who 
was driving the mountain buggy, noticed that the right 
rear wheel of the White- Water wagon was tracking clear 
off the brake-shoe, and wabbling. Immediately he rang 
in an alarm, and it was found that the afflicted wheel was 
on the point of parting company with the axle, skein and 
all! It seems that although the wagon was almost new, 
the skein had worked loose from the end of the wooden 
axle, and in perhaps six minutes more the heavily loaded 
vehicle would have crashed down by the starboard quarter. 

Then Mr. Sykes took charge of the case. He cut a 
stout mesquite stem, set it up firmly under the sick axle, 
then dug a hole under the wheel and took the wheel oif . 
Those who could not help him kept very still, and watched 
a Master-Fixer do his work. The skein was put back in 
its place, and fastened so tightly that when all the rest of 
that wagon goes to rack and ruin, that piece of its anatomy 
will be found holding firmly in its place. And so, with 
many thanks to the Fates for letting us off so easily, and 




"rom a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

A Lucky Strike in the Desert 

Mr. Svkes The Doctor Frank Coles Charlie Foster The Author 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

Filling the Water Cans at the Papago's Well 



TRAILING INTO A NEW WORLD 31 

to Mr. Sykes for making the wagon as good as new, we 
drove on, duly chastened in spirit, and wondering what 
next. 

My journal states that on our first day we made 
twenty-three miles, that for one-half the way the creosote 
bush held sway, and for the other half the mesquite. 
With a fine sunset, night closed in upon us when we were 
yet four miles from water and a possible camping-place. 
There being nothing to do but to go on to water, we went; 
and finally, in pitchy darkness, reached the corner of an 
imposing corral made of mesquite stems. It was then 
more than an hour after sunset. We were at the cattle 
ranch of a well-to-do Mexican named Roble, who had 
digged a big well, found water, erected a big tank of 
galvanized iron fifteen feet high and constructed a hun- 
dred feet of concrete water-troughs for his cattle. 

Mr. Roble was at home, and he permitted us to water 
our horses, night and morning, and burn up two camp- 
fires of his firewood, all for the very moderate considera- 
tion of fifty cents. Mighty cheap it was, at that price. 
No one knows better than a desert traveller that, on a 
desert, a well of pure water is worth money. Unfortu- 
nately, however, it is the inexorable law both of Man and 
Nature that the lower the water the higher the price. 

And thus ended our first day in the Arizona deserts. 
And what animal life had we observed ? I will briefly 
enumerate it. 

We saw four Arizona jack rabbits {Lepus californicus 
eremicus), four badger holes, about twenty-five or thirty 
burrow mounds of the desert kangaroo rat {Dipodomys 



32 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

deserti), three ravens, one desert red-tailed hawk and 
about two hundred small blackish birds that I could not 
identify on the wing. We saw a few sparrows and about 
twenty-five nests of the cactus wren in choya cactus tops. 
We also noted four yuccas and three white thistle-poppies 
{Argemone platyceras). Of cattle skeletons we saw only 
four. 

When we reached the corner of Senor Roble's stock- 
aded corral — built of mesquite stems, big and crooked and 
most wastefully piled up between two lines of posts — the 
night was very black, and at first we did not know which 
way to move. But in due time the expedition resolved 
itself into its component parts, and the work to be done 
was effectively taken in hand. While the drivers and the 
farm-bred supernumerary unhitched the six horses, Mex- 
ican Charlie brought a lot of mesquite firewood from good- 
ness knows where, and quickly built a brilliant camp-fire. 
And immediately all hands became cheerful and loqua- 
cious! If a good camp-fire can not produce comfort and 
goodfellowship in the open, nothing can. 

The horses were led into the corral and watered at 
the troughs, then given a good ration of oats and alfalfa. 
When the wagons were unpacked, each man selected a 
spot for his night's repose, and effectually consecrated 
it to his individual use by depositing his bed-roll upon it. 
A cache of provisions is not more sacred in the Far North 
than is a preempted sleeping-place on the desert; and 
*'rank" indeed is the tenderfoot who ventures to tempt 
the hereafter by jumping such a claim. A man may 
jump a copper claim, or eke a gold one, without the 



TRAILING INTO A NEW WORLD ^^ 

painful necessity of being shot; but *' bed-ground" is 
different. 

With the growing importance of the camp-fire, the 
cook's boxes were unpacked, and their cheerful contents 
displayed to the gaze of an admiring circle of men. A 
large square of clean canvas was spread upon the sand, 
and upon it went an array of enamelled-iron plates and 
cups, loaves of Tucson bread (for two days only) and 
"air-tights." Two huge slabs of steak were cut from a 
hindquarter of fresh beef — and it certainly was fried to 
perfection. The coffee was started early, and achieved 
a finish at the most auspicious moment. 

Inasmuch as that was our first meal since early break- 
fast, the crowd was sharp set, and the havoc wrought 
would have been considered appalling if anyone could 
have spared time to take note of it. 

Our first supper consisted of fried beefsteak, fried 
potatoes, raw onions, bread, butter, coffee, cane-and- 
maple syrup and plums; and we all pronounced it good. 
The lovely label on the syrup can had erstwhile proclaimed 
"Genuine Maple Syrup"; but the pure-food law had got 
in its nefarious work. In deference to its outrageous and 
despotic demands, a broad white strip of paper had been 
pasted, like a surgeon's plaster, squarely across the ab- 
domen of that chastened can, bearing the mournful con- 
fession "Cane and" — so that the label then read "Genu- 
ine Cane and Maple Syrup." It was a silent tribute to 
the pure-food law, the beneficent influence of which now 
reaches even unto the deserts of Arizona. 

Long before bedtime we insinuated ourselves into our 



34 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

sleeping-bags — in the wide open, because in Arizona tents 
are mostly useless — with each man lying where he listed. 
To guarantee that we really were in the wilds, with the 
starry heavens for a canopy, certain coyotes sang a few 
bars to us out of the surrounding darkness; and there 
being no further business, the meeting around that first 
camp-fire silently adjourned. 



CHAPTER IV 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF AN ARBOREAL DESERT 

The Frame of Mind — The Nursery Idea — Strange Association of 
Plains and Mountains — Desert Amphitheatres — Unique Granite 
Mountains — The Arroyo and Its Uses — MiUions of Specimen 
Shrubs and Trees — A Flood Basin. 

If you enter the deserts to study them, go in a receptive 
and tolerant frame of mind, or not at all. Said Dr. Mac- 
Dougal, 

"After a month spent in the deserts, you will either 
love them or loathe them for the rest of your life/' 

Go with an open mind; for the voices of the arid 
wastes are entitled to a hearing. If you cannot endure a 
certain amount of thirst, heat, fatigue and hunger without 
getting cross with Nature, it is best to stay at home — or 
go across the water to the Land of the Itching Palm. 

If you negotiate a desert voluntarily in order to learn 
it by heart, prepared to take it like marriage — for better 
or for worse — you will get on bravely and well; and if 
camp-dogs and coyotes run over your bed and trample 
upon your nerves when you are striving to snatch ten or 
twelve hours of slumber, anything that you may say or 
do to those chronic disturbers will be regarded as in 
order. 

Naturally, one looks first at the desert as a whole, 

35 



36 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

before analyzing its component parts, and counting its 
stamens and pistils. And what is one's first impression ? 

First of all, you note with profound surprise that these 
Arizona deserts are not barren and desolate wastes, but 
literally teeming with plant and tree life. The plain looks 
exactly like a nursery devoted to but one or two shrub 
species. According to the water supply, the creosote 
bushes or the mesquites v/ill be two feet high— all of them 
— or three feet, or six feet, as the case may be. On 
different areas the standard of height varies, but on any 
given plain, as far around you as you can see, the height 
is remarkably uniform, and the spacing of the clumps 
is very regular. 

Try as you will to get rid of it, the nursery idea sticks 
in your mind; and the more you see of these deserts, the 
more fixed does it become. One plain will be found de- 
voted to the mesquite, another to the creosote bush, 
another to choya cacti, and others, but of smaller area, to 
the tall and rank galleta grass, with a mixture of other 
things. And many times, also, will your overland prog- 
ress lead you to a five or ten-acre tract of desert botanical 
garden, whereon you will find that Nature has joyously 
thrown together a fine sample lot of all the species that 
have been used in planting operations for twenty miles 
around. 

The next impression concerns the strange and even 
weird association of plains and mountains. For a hundred 
miles west of Tucson the stage setting is grand and 
peculiar. The desert is a plain that seems to be absolutely 
level, but it is so thickly studded with mountain ranges 



IMPRESSIONS OF AN ARBOREAL DESERT 37 

that every "valley," as they are oddly called, is a great 
natural amphitheatre, surrounded by rugged mountains. 
It is a rare thing for the vision to sweep across the green 
sea of desert verdure straight to a far-distant horizon on 
the level without encountering a saw-toothed range of 
bare gray granite. I noted this immediately, and through- 
out our wanderings in Arizona the clear gaps leading to 
the level horizon were few, indeed, and very narrow. 

Strange to say, there is in those gray mountain walls 
a sense of cheerful companionship that quite robs the 
deserts of the awful monotony that usually characterizes 
uninhabited level plains of inimitable extent. To some 
minds the idea may seem absurd, but to me the mountain 
ranges were company. The ranges near at hand are always 
so isolated, so sharply defined, and so individualized that 
they are as much company to the wayfarer as so many 
houses with windows that look at you. To perish on a 
great waste of sand like the Sahara would be very monot- 
onous and disagreeable; but in one of these beautiful 
green plains, surrounded by an amphitheatre of interesting 
mountains, death would be quite a different matter. 

In about three days' overland travel one is reasonably 
certain to pass through, or else quite near, at least two or 
three independent ranges of mountains. By the end of so 
much travel you have honestly acquired the impression 
that of all the mountains in the world (s. f. a. k.)* these are 
the most abrupt risers, and from the levelest plains. 
Often there are no foothills, no premonitory symptoms of 
any kind. With one foot on the level desert, you plant the 

* So far as known. 



38 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

other on the steep side of a mountain that towers aloft in 
one long steep climb from base to summit; and you must 
climb for all you are worth in order to rise in the world. 

These mountains seem like after-thoughts, modelled 
in the shop long after the general plans were finished, and 
set up cold. They constantly reminded me of the artificial 
peaks of stone, or concrete, or furnace slag that have been 
built in several of the level zoological gardens of Europe 
for wild goats, ibexes and sheep to climb upon, and get the 
most for their money out of a small surface area. 

Hereafter, whenever a zoological-garden constructor 
needs to erect a high mountain on a piece of level ground 
the size of a city lot, let him take as his motif and model 
an Arizona mountain, follow it closely, and if he repro- 
duces it faithfully he shall acquire merit. 

I have seen, and at times experienced, mountains in 
our own grand Rockies, in the Sierra Nevadas, British 
Columbia, the AUeghenies and Adirondacks, Italy, India 
and elsewhere in the Far East, but nowhere have I en- 
countered or enjoyed such upright mountains, nor such 
downright peculiar mountains, as those of southwestern 
Arizona. If you have not yet seen them to fine advantage, 
quietly, and continuously for days, as becometh the needs 
of a lover of natural scenery, then may you live and enjoy 
life until you have done so. 

The mountains alongside our trip, excepting one range 
in Mexico south-east of Sonoyta,.called Cobabi,were rather 
low, none of them running up as high as 4,000 feet. But 
what of that ? Give a two-thousand-foot mountain a 
steep face, and a serrated top, and like a climbing woman 



IMPRESSIONS OF AN ARBOREAL DESERT 39 

with a small income, it can put up quite an imposing out- 
side appearance. None of the mountains between the 
Santa Catalinas, Sonoyta and Gila Bend were high enough 
to bear pines, or any species of coniferous trees. They 
were all of them builded of gray granite, and their steep 
sides were mostly as barren of trees as the side of a factory 
chimney. 

The fourth feature that impresses a first-impressionist 
loose in the deserts is the arroyo. Now, in that region, 
the arroyo is not merely a plain and simple product of 
nature. It is an institution. Its variety is great and its 
uses many. As a resource for water it is generally a de- 
lusion and a snare; although there are times when it 
yields the precious fluid that is as necessary to the traveller 
as his own heart's blood. The trouble is that the water 
that collects in an arroyo during a downpour of rain is 
quickly absorbed by the thirsty sands of the stream-bed. 
The bed of the average arroyo on a desert plain is like an 
attenuated sponge, ready and eager to absorb the last drop 
of the struggling current. And the worst of it is, there are 
no nice pockets lined with impervious clays to hold the 
water in storage for the Thirsty Ones of the desert. 
Through the remorseless loose sand and pervious gravel- 
beds, the water sinks down quickly and far, and is gone 
forever. 

Once as we crossed a broad arroyo in which there 
were unmistakable signs of moisture from a recent rain, 
I said to Dr. MacDougal, 

"Doctor, in a situation like that, could not a thirsty 
man-with-a-shovel find water by digging ? " 



40 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

**0h, yes, if he went down far enough.'* 

"About how far do you think one would have to dig 
in such a spot as that in order to strike water ?" 

*'Well," said the Doctor, soberly and reflectively, "I 
should think that he would need to go down about 350 
feet." 

And the dry bones of my curiosity are there to this 
day. 

The largest mesquite and palo verde trees, and the 
patches of galleta grass, if there are any, are found in the 
arroyos. It is beside an arroyo that the desert traveller 
unhitches his tired horses and makes his camp, for the 
certainty of good fire-wood, and the chance of a little 
grass. Even if it is to be a "dry camp," the arroyo is far 
more hospitable than the small bushes of the plain. 

The course of every erstwhile watercourse is always 
discernible at a mile's distance by the meandering line of 
green-topped mesquite and palo verde that looms up 
twice as high as the bushes of the plain. Wherever that 
green ruching runs, there will you find fire-wood, and 
possibly other things of equal value. Near mountains, 
when the water rushes off the granite or lava, the arroyos 
are fairly numerous, but on the level plains you may 
sometimes travel five miles without the smallest break. 

When we begin to analyze the component parts of the 
desert — which we do even while grasping wildly at the 
Thing as a Whole — we immediately notice that it is made 
like an old-fashioned museum. Each object is an indi- 
vidual specimen, standing on its own solitary pedestal. 
Each creosote bush, mesquite, palo verde, ironwood, ay. 



IMPRESSIONS OF AN ARBOREAL DESERT 41 

each clump of galleta grass is a perfect botanical specimen, 
growing in its own invisible tub, standing alone, and quite 
untrammelled by its neighbours. Out of a million creosote 
bushes, nearly every one has for its circumpolar regions 
a zone of smooth, bare earth from two to ten feet wide. 
The perfectly symmetrical development of each bush and 
tree on an arboreal desert is a perpetual novelty. Else- 
where we have been accustomed to seeing bushes massed 
together, with little individuality; and the independent 
specimens of the deserts are far more interesting. They 
compel interest in a way that massed bushes never can, 
no matter what they are. Out here every traveller be- 
comes a botanist (Ld.) because the facilities are matchless 
and the temptation is irresistible. 

The reason for the zones of bare ground between 
bushes is easily recognized, especially when Dr. Mac- 
Dougal is at hand to state it. There is not enough water 
to support a shrub growth that is continuous. The 
desert rain is sufficient only for one bush every five or ten 
feet. 

The Avra Valley— which farther south becomes the 
Altar Valley — is, like many others, a vast flood basin into 
which many arroyos run down from the surrounding 
mountains only to lose themselves forever. On the plain 
their waters spread out and are swallowed up before they 
can run far out and away. The trail across it is a fine 
wagon road, as smooth and hard as any ordinary road of 
telford, macadam or gravel. In the first hundred miles 
of fertile deserts that lie immediately westward of Tucson, 
loose sand is rarely found. As a rule, the roads over 



42 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

which we travelled in Arizona, in the triangle between 
Tucson, Sonoyta and Gila Bend, were excellent; but of 
course there were some stony sections, some that were 
sandy, and in some sections there were many arroyos and 
gullies to be crossed. 

It seems to me that the outward route chosen by Dr. 
MacDougal is exceptionally well provided with attrac- 
tions. The sights that were in turn interesting, remark- 
able or entrancing crowded upon us in such rapid suc- 
cession that it was well-nigh impossible to make a coherent 
record of them. The country from the Ajo mines up to 
Gila Bend is far less interesting; in fact, it is little more 
than creosote bushes and distant mountains. Now, the 
country between Tucson and Montezuma's Head, at 
Wall's Well, is a wonderland, no less; and I think that 
no unjaundiced person can ride over that trail and say 
otherwise. I regret, however, that it is utterly impossible 
for any efforts of mine, even though supported by a heavy 
battery of cameras, to do justice to it in these pages, or in 
any others. 



CHAPTER V 

A DESERT BOTANICAL GARDEN 

The Lost Cactus Garden — ^The Beautiful Palo Verde — An Unworked 
Table Decoration — The Deadly Mistletoe — The Acacia, or "Cat- 
Claw" Thorn — The Unique and Wonderful Ocatilla — A Bouquet 
of Green Wands — The Octopus of the Desert — The Iron-wood 
Tree — The Omnipresent Creosote Bush, and Its Purpose. 

On looking over my notes of the things seen on the 
second day, I find so much that was interesting I despair 
of finding space for the half of it. What we did was as 
nothing; but the things we saw would, if adequately set 
forth, make a volume larger than some that I wot of. 
Described in a single line, it was a drive into, through and 
out of a pass between two ranges of mountains; but I 
just wish you had been with us to take it all in! It was 
really a pjty that there were only seven men and a dog 
to enjoy it. 

There is one remembrance of the morning that makes 
me sigh like a porpoise every time I think of it. My un- 
happiness is due to the fact that I lost forever the chance 
to place before the Reader a picture of the most perfect 
and glorious cactus gardens that we found on our entire 
trip. Being an old specimen-hunter, with an eye for the 
"finest of all" the moment it is seen, I spotted the "finest" 
giant cactus, and the "finest" organ-pipe cactus, the 

43 



44 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

moment I laid eyes upon them. We captured them, too; 
as you shall see. When I saw that wonderful cactus 
garden at Coyote Mountain, specially laid out, planted 
and tended to perfection by the Divine Hand, I knew 
instinctively that I never would find another equal to it. 
As I halted the buggy and climbed out with my amateur 
camera, I shouted to the others an announcement of the 
discovery. But Dr. MacDougal's camera was buried 
under a load of outfit, Mr. Phillips was just then starting 
off after a flock of Gambel quail, and I alone was left 
to make a picture. 

Thus far there has not been time to consider the cacti, 
of the kinds familiarly known as choyas (spelled **chol- 
las"), for the reason that those terrors of the deserts must 
be approached with caution, and handled with circum- 
spection. And there is not time for them even now. 
But there, before Jess Jenkins and me, appeared a level 
bit of desert the size of a large city block, bare underfoot 
and clean as parlour floor, on which Nature had put 
forth a special effort in the development of a cactus 
garden. 

There were four important species, all splendidly rep- 
resented — the giant cactus, barrel cactus, tree choya and 
Bigelow's choya, while several ocatillas and an allthorn 
bush were thrown in for good measure. The sun was 
at my back, the foreground was bare and vacant — quite 
as if made to order — and the way the clear sunlight brought 
out those spiny details was beautiful to see. The million 
spines of the choyas glistened yellowish-white in the sun, 
like a million glass toothpicks. The planting was beau- 



A DESERT BOTANICAL GARDEN 45 

tifully disposed for a picture, being neither crowded nor 
scattered. 

Mentally praying hard for success, but horribly torn 
by doubts, I set up my tripod and exposed two films. 
But in photography the mistakes of Moses were as ciphers 
to mine. Because I was so anxious, I did something 
wrong, and secured no pictures whatever. 

Half an hour later, when I overtook the four-horse 
wagon, and related the story of the garden, the others 
said, "We'll all photograph it on our way back.'' They 
meant it; but alack! Fate willed it that we did not return 
that way; and my wonderful cactus garden remains un- 
taken to this day. 

It is impossible for the expedition to proceed any 
farther without the introduction of the Palo Verde and 
certain other conspicuous habitants of the desert botanical 
garden through which we trailed. 

Of all the tree products of the desert, the PaFo-Ver'-de 
is one of the most beautiful and interesting. Its name is 
Spanish, and means "green tree."* According to its 
soil and water supply, it may be as large as an adult apple- 
tree — fifteen feet high, with a trunk nine inches in diam- 
eter — or as small as a mountain laurel bush three feet 
high. Almost as far as it can be seen, you recognize it at 
once as something different, and remarkable. Instead of 
a top that is made up of leaf masses, one laid upon another, 
you see that its foliage — or rather the masses where its 
foliage ought to be — is composed of straight lines, and 
angles! The Palo Verde bears a few tiny leaflets, so small 

*-Parkinsonia microphylla. 



46 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

that it would take about twelve of them to cover a postage 
stamp; but in November they exert no influence whatever 
upon the general aspect of the tree. 

Regardless of leaves, however, from root to top the 
Palo Verde is of the most beautiful green that could be 
imagined. It is not the bold, waxy, aggressive green of the 
creosote bush, but the soft, smooth and delicate green of 
the asparagus. 

The bark is as smooth as the surface of polished oak, 
and trunk, branch and twig are alike persistent green. 
Even the bark of the trunk has a surface like a robin's 

egg. 

The terminal twigs are long, straight and slender, like 
masses of green darning needles set where the leaves 
ought to be. The density of their colour, added to their 
unique form, gives the tree as a whole a peculiarly lineated 
top. This is one of the very few desert trees that is free 
from thorns. 

It is not often that I fall in love with a tree; but there 
are no other trees (of my acquaintance) like the odd yet 
beautiful Palo Verde. I never wearied of it. By its pro- 
nounced colour you can distinguish it from the darker 
mesquite and iron-wood, as far as you can recognize 
colours. As a tree for house and table decorations it has 
immense possibilities, and I am surprised that the florists 
of New York, and the givers of fabulous dinners, have not 
long since learned its value and brought it into use. Now, 
a Palo Verde tree — or, still better, half a dozen of them — 
six feet high, rising from a banquet table, would be some- 
thing worth while, and also new. 



A DESERT BOTANICAL GARDEN 47 

This tree is not particularly useful. Its chief purpose 
is to ornament the arroyos and flood basins of the desert 
regions, and to furnish brake-blocks for desert freight- 
wagons. It strings along the arroyos, wherever the water 
supply is a little above the average, but on the open, level 
plains it is rare. Often from many a square mile it is 
quite absent. In density and grain, its wood is much like 
that of the white birch. The trunk consists of a single 
stem, upon which the branches are set in very abrupt and 
angular fashion, all of which merely adds to the odd ap- 
pearance of the tree. 

The Honey-Pod Mesquite* is the most persistent bush- 
tree of the deserts. Both in form and in habit it is much 
like the palo verde, and in southern Arizona and Mexico 
the two species are almost inseparable companions. On 
the desert plains, where water is scarce and dear, the 
mesquite is a modest little bush three feet high; but along 
the arroyos, the valleys, and in the business centres of the 
flood basins, where the water-wagon is more in evidence, 
it develops into a real tree. Often it grows to a height of 
twenty-five feet with a writhing trunk twelve or more 
inches in diameter. In growth habit it is very much like 
an apple-tree — a low, heavy, wide-spreading top with 
crooked branches that frequently are horizontal, on a 
short, stout trunk of irregular shape. The bark is gray 
and the foliage is of a pale gray-green tint — not so pleasing 
as the asparagus-green of the palo verde. 

The leaves of the Mesquite are very small, and set 
on their stems in a fashion that by botanists is called twice- 

^Prosopis velutina. 



48 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

pinnate. In this case It means that the leaflets are set In 
pairs — about twelve of them — along the deciduous stem. 
Individually the leaflets of the Mesqulte are so tiny It 
would take about ten of them to cover a postage stamp. 
This tree Is related to the honey locust, and Its seeds are 
developed In a pod. Both foliage and "beans" are eaten 
by horses and cattle when grass Is not obtainable and 
hunger Is great. Its seeds are greedily eaten by all the 
small rodents of the deserts, and by many birds, also. 
Although Its leaves are very small the shade of the Mes- 
qulte Is very grateful and comforting. 

The Mesqulte Is well provided with thorns, but fort- 
unately for the proletariat, they point forward instead of 
back. Its wood is hard, fine-grained, durable and the 
general stand-by for fuel throughout the whole South-west. 
Blessed Is the desert wayfarer who has dry Mesqulte for 
his camp-fire; for without It, fire-making is a serious 
problem. It burns freely, makes a hot fire and quickly 
produces a good bed of coals for the baking of bread and 
the frying of meat. 

In the simple house-building of the deserts, Mesqulte 
constitutes well-nigh the only wood that Is available. 
The stems are used to support the earth roofs of houses, 
to build Into fences for corrals and cultivated fields, and to 
repair broken wagons. It Is said that the Mexicans also 
use it in the making of furniture. 

Throughout our trip we found the large Mesqulte trees 
of the valleys and flood plains grievously aflflicted with 
mistletoe. It usually appears as a great, dark-coloured 
bunch two feet in diameter, and sometimes we found half 









■Sj 


HH 








K ' '" 






\f^ 


I » 


/il-^- Ift^a-^ 




s 




m 




'^%^'^SJ> \ 


vM 




^^H^n 








UPPMJPjHI 




^"^If^^^^^H 


^S \ 




9 






i 

''1 


^W 


- 


//^^P^ '^H 






■ 






L,j . 




^ J^B^HI 






H 






1 


K-' • 










u 


'4, ^ 
1 




m 


|;. 




■J 






^1 








Kj|; ; 




-#^' yff 






"''''IIBSI 




Em 




- i" /(■ , t >-..'■ ifrjf^-' 



-t:"- 3 



A DESERT BOTANICAL GARDEN 49 

a dozen clumps in one tree. This parasite, like most 
others, is destructive when overdone. We saw many 
hapless trees that had literally been murdered by it, and 
were then only lifeless stubs. It was in the valley of the 
Sonoyta River, near Agua Dulce, that Dr. MacDougal 
photographed a wide-spreading Mesquite whose top was 
so overloaded with mistletoe that it looked as if a small 
load of clover hay had been pitched into it. 

The Acacia or "Cat-Claw"* belongs to the deserts 
of Arabia and the high and dry plains of India, but a 
species of it, much resembling the scraggy Acacia arahica 
of the Ganges-Jumna plain, is frequently in evidence in 
the South-west. By its thorns shall ye know it; for they 
point backward, and small though they are, like the claws 
of a half-grown kitten, they can cut your epidermis right 
painfully. The Cat-Claw Acacia looks much like the 
mesquite; and its leaves, also, are pinnate and very small, 
on the general basis of about seventeen pairs to a stem. 
In the valleys with most water, particularly that of the 
Sonoyta, we found this tree associated with the mesquite. 
Many times the former was hurriedly mistaken for the 
latter, but only until its thorns had made an impression. 

There is one other arboreal feature of the deserts 
which, because of its picturesque oddity, I have reserved 
to the last. It is a product of the plant world unique 
in character, and standing as much apart from related 
genera and species as does the prong-horned antelope 
among hoofed animals. It is the Ocatilla,f the Spanish 
name of which is pronounced O-ca-tee'-ya. Next to the 

* Acacia greggi. ^Foi4quiera splendens. 



50 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

giant cactus, it was the most monumental and picturesque 
thing of plant growth found by us in two hundred miles 
of fertile deserts. 

The Ocatilla is a multiform tree, and there is nothing 
else that is at all like it. Instead of having a tall main 
stem and many branches, large and small, it has an ex- 
ceedingly short stem and many very long, wand-like 
branches. The leaves grow all along each branch, from 
bottom to tip. The stem is a big, thick mass of solid 
wood, all underneath the earth (where the earth has not 
been blown away), and the top of it is large enough to 
afford holding-ground for each branch. From the very 
limited upper surface of the main stem, starting usually at 
the level of the ground, there rise a score or more of long, 
slender rods of light wood, their bases firmly packed 
together, but otherwise free. They are like slender and 
very symmetrical fishing-rods. As they rise, they droop 
outward and spread apart, until they form a group shaped 
like a morning-glory vase. When it is in full leaf, the 
Ocatilla is like a bouquet of green wands held at the bot- 
tom by an invisible hand. 

The stems vary in number from three to seventy- 
three, or even more. I can vouch for the last-named 
number by count. The largest Ocatilla that I particu- 
larly noted had some stems that were, by measurement, 
eighteen feet long. 

One of the strangest features of this odd multiple-tree 
is its leaves and thorns. The leaves grow thickly all 
along the stem, each blade an inch and a half in length. 
The blade springs full-fledged from the upright woody 



A DESERT BOTANICAL GARDEN 51 

stem, with no free petiole, and its colour is dark pea-green. 
This profusion of leaves gives each stem of the Ocatilla 
a highly pleasing appearance, and denotes water in the 
not-far-distant yesterday. A large Ocatilla in full leaf 
is a beautiful object, and every line of its ensemble be- 
speaks development in a land of queer things. 

But mark the transformation! 

When the last rain has become only a distant memory, 
when the hungry roots have sucked the last drop of mois- 
ture from the sandy soil, the hour for a change has struck. 
Fleshy leaves an inch and a half long are far too luxuriant 
to last long in a desert. They dry up, and they drop off — 
all but the midrib, which takes form as a big, woody 
thorn an inch or more in length.* Then and thereafter 
each stem presents the most frightful array of thorns to 
be found on anything outside the cactus family. So far 
as cattle, burros and wild animals are concerned, an 
Ocatilla in a state of defence is practically impregnable. 
We saw only two stems that had been barked by food- 
seeking animals, and that work had been done by wild 
burros, at great trouble and expense. 

Dr. MacDougal was at some pains to show me the 
precise manner in which the truculent Ocatilla thorn is 
developed from the harmless green leaf; and it was highly 
interesting. Just why the animals of the desert do not 
greedily devour the stems when in full leaf, and thornless, 
the present deponent does not know. It is there that 
Evolution must account for an exception. 

* For an illustration of this transformation, see the Ocatilla pictured opposite 
page 80. 



52 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Except on the plains dedicated to the creosote bush 
and mesquite, the Ocatllla stayed with us from Tucson 
to the very foot of Pinacate Peak. It is the inseparable 
companion of the giant cactus, but unlike the latter, it 
grows larger along the international boundary than fifty 
miles farther north. On the night that three of us "laid 
out" on the slope of Pinacate, we found near our bivouac 
a large dead Ocatilla whose rods of clean white wood 
burned with a brilliant light — too bright to last. These 
naked rods are used by the Papago Indians in building 
fences, and screens around the verandas of their adobe 
houses. 

The last state of the beautiful Ocatilla is as odd as the 
first. When Death has clutched it firmly, and it has 
yielded up its multitudinous life, the structure collapses 
upon its root, and the branches fall outward toward every 
point of the compass. As the whorl of white skeleton 
stems lies upon bare lava, or decomposed granite or sand, 
they look uncommonly like the arms of a dead octopus; 
and the trunk makes an excellent imitation of the creature's 
body and head. The thorn cases of the stem-arms very 
well represent the suckers — and what more will you 
have ? 

The Iron- Wood tree {Olneya tesota) is not of sufficient 
importance to justify prolonged attention. It looks very 
much like the mesquite, but its wood is as hard as its 
name implies, and so heavy that it will not float in water. 
The largest specimen I noted particularly was a conspicu- 
ous part of our aforesaid bivouac on Pinacate. A trunk 
fully a foot in diameter and twenty feet long was twisted 



A DESERT BOTANICAL GARDEN 53 

almost into a figure-8 knot, but it was what cattlemen call 
a "lazy 8," for it lay upon the ground. 

Last of the important bushes and trees of the desert — 
but often it is the first — is the Creosote Bush.* It is by 
far the most omnipresent representative of the plant world 
throughout the region we traversed. I think we saw 
hundreds of square miles of it, and most of all was on the 
trail from the Ajo mines up to Gila Bend. 

The specimen shown with Mr. Sykes and the grave of 
the murdered Mexican is an excellent picture of a Creo- 
sote Bush which may be regarded as the type of ten million 
others. The Creosote Bush is a big cluster of small and 
brittle woody stems, covered with smooth brown bark. 
The stems do not branch until near their tops, and there 
they send off a few fine twigs to support the irregular 
clusters of tiny leaves that form the outer surface of the 
bush. The leaves are of a rich, bright green colour, and 
so shiny that they look as if recently varnished. They 
taste unpleasantly like creosote (oil of smoke), and no 
animal can eat them. 

The leaves of the Creosote Bush are so wholly on its 
outer surface that it would be quite easy to shear them all 
off, as one shears a sheep, and leave the bush nearly full 
size but perfectly bare. The usual height of this bush is 
from two to three feet. The clumps stand about ten feet 
apart, and usually there are from 100 to 150 per acre. 
In a few localities we saw some very large specimens, 
which grew fully ten feet in height. 

The purpose of the Creosote Bush surely is evident to 

"^Larrea Mexicana or Covillea tridentata. 



54 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the dullest traveller. It is the great sand-holder and dust- 
storm preventer of the deserts. Its multitude of small 
stems, growing well apart, have been specially designed 
by Nature to catch drifting sand, or dust, and hold it! 
Without it, the deserts would be unbearably dusty when- 
ever the wind blows. Along the western side of Mac- 
Dougal Pass we found a wide plain of Creosote Bushes 
that was being invaded by the loose, dry, yellow sand 
blowing eastward from the "sandhills" of the Gulf of 
California. 

At that time (1907) the original level of the desert 
was partially bare, but the drifting sand had been caught 
and held by those bushes until each clump was filled with 
sand one-third of the way to its top. They were slowly 
being buried; and some were already dead. 

Elsewhere, we found a spot of sandy desert, where the 
opposite process was going on. The sand had been swept 
away from between the widely scattered bushes until each 
bush now stands upon a mound, bravely refusing to give 
up and die. 

The cacti were a great botanical exhibit, and well 
worth the labour of the whole trip; but they were so won- 
derful and so varied that they require a chapter of their 
own. 



CHAPTER VI 

UNROLLING THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 

Fine Weather, Hot and Cold — The Best Kind of a Wash — Two 
Ravens Pester our National Emblem — Coyote Mountain and Well 
—Hayes' Well and the "Well Ahead"— A Narrow Escape— A 
Papago-Indian Village — Tank Water and Well Water — Camp on 
the Santa Rosa Plain — Animal Life — The Passe South-western 
Indian — The Organ-Pipe Cactus. 

Even with good trails to travel over, it is no child's 
play to take an expedition such as ours from Coyote 
Mountain to the International Boundary. There are 
chances a-many for the loss of time, trail and opportunity. 
The total absence of guide-boards from all trail-forks and 
crossings is admirably adapted to the mixing up of trails 
and travellers, and the precipitation of serious troubles. 

With the sketch map of Pima County, which Dr. 
MacDougal had provided, we would have found our way; 
but Mexican Charlie's knowledge of prevailing conditions 
in wells and tanks, in addition to his information regarding 
the best and most direct trails, undoubtedly saved us a 
a great amount of wondering and worrying about things 
ahead. Not once did we go wrong, nor make a mistake 
regarding water. 

The weather was simply glorious. The days were 
cloudless and hot — though in comparison with the really 
hot days of midsummer in Arizona, the midday tempera- 
ture that we experienced should be regarded as bleak 

ss 



56 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

and cold! What are 90° in November in comparison 
with 130° in August! 

After sunset the heat of the day rapidly cools. By 
eight o'clock every sleeper covers his head, and long 
before midnight he fervently thanks his stars^ — on duty 
aloft to the number of a million or so — that he is under 
four good blankets. 

Daylight finds the world stinging cold, with either 
frost and ice on your upper deck, or an icy-cold sop of 
dew, which is worse. Getting up in the cold gray dawn 
is a serious matter; but in a crowd of old campaigners 
no man likes to be "last" every time. A complete 
change from warm sleeping garments to the working 
clothes of the day is a shivery proceeding, but the wise 
ones know that it is best not to try to avoid it by sleeping 
in the garments of the day. 

I think that the only radical reform wrought by my influ- 
ence in the conduct of that band of hardened land pirates 
touched upon and appertained to the daily morning wash. 

In nearly every cold-weather camp of real hunters. 
Iron Stoicism is the order of the day. The cook takes 
pride in making the food and the coffee good and hot, 
but it is just there that Luxury wanders off the trail and 
bogs down. It is the regular thing to arise on a whizzing 
cold morning, fill the wash-basin with ice and water from 
the pail, fish out the ice and then proceed to commit 
assault and battery on the helpless hands and face. After 
that, the breakfast food is put upon a steel plate that is 
like a sheet of ice, and can be warranted to cool off the 
warmest food in two minutes. 



THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 57 

Now, I have found that as a fixative for real estate 
on the paws of a camper, there is nothing that surpasses 
ice-cold water, hastily and grudgingly applied. Those 
who love ice-water for bathing purposes are welcome to 
the enjoyment of it; but for me, stoicism breaks down at 
the bath-tub and the morning wash-basin. In cold 
weather I fling Appearances to the wintry winds, and 
spend fully three minutes in warming wash-water over the 
camp-fire. The result is Luxury; and with it the day 
begins Right. 

One after another, my companions all succumbed. 
Timidly at first, Mr. Phillips held the wash-basin— which 
was a miner's gold-pan — over the camp-fire; then came 
the Doctor, and finally Mr. Sykes; and they extracted 
solid comfort from the cheap and easy luxury that 
usually is sacrificed on the altar of Pride. 

North of Roble's Well-in-the-desert rose a long and 
imposing chain of mountains, composed of Roskruge's 
Range, Sam Hughes' Buttes and the Abbie Waterman 
Mountains. Beyond Abbie's real estate holdings were 
the Silver Bell Mountains, the Silver Bell mines and smel- 
ter, and much real mining activity. 

When eight miles from Roble's we were half-way 
through Coyote Pass, and abreast of Coyote Mountain, a 
fine range that loomed up on the south, quite near at 
hand. We were then just entering the Santa Rosa 
"Valley" — by caprice so called — a great plain forty 
miles wide, with numerous mountain pyramids scattered 
over it. To cross it is nearly two days' work. 

It was opposite Coyote Mountain that we noticed, 



58 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

a quarter of a mile ahead of the outfit, two ravens* auda- 
ciously harrying an eagle in mid-air. They would turn 
on the electric current, dash after him on swiftest wing, 
and, with beak or wings, try to strike him from above. 
Slowly and ponderously he flapped toward the north, 
and each time that he was beset by the truculent ravens 
he plainly showed annoyance. Eight or ten times the 
ravens raced after the bird of freedom, and palpably got 
on his nerves. And each time he gave a perceptible 
gesture of impatience; but otherwise he steadily pursued 
his northward flight. At last the ravens abandoned the 
chase and flew back whence they came. 

Being challenged to interpret the meaning of the mid- 
air conflict, I advanced the theory that the lordly eagle 
had been meddling with something which the impudent 
ravens claimed as their property; and I even went so far 
as to predict that we would find dead meat about 1,320 
feet ahead. Sure enough, we presently passed the re- 
mains of a horse, on which ten ravens were holding a 
solemn inquest. It appeared that the eagle had at- 
tempted to conduct the obsequies, and two fighting ravens 
had been appointed a committee to drive him away. It 
was interesting, but we disliked to see our national 
emblem pestered by ravens. Evidently he felt that ravens 
were not in his class. 

At noon we halted at Coyote Well, and a very good 
well we found it. It had been dug ten feet through 

*The White-Necked Raven — Corvus cryptoleucus. In size it is about mid- 
way between the northern raven and common crow. The feathers of its neck are 
white ai the base only, and to all outward appearances the bird is all black. Its 
voice is not so hoarse as that of the northern raven. 



THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 59 

gravelly earth and loose rock, and walled within as a 
square pen of poles. Below that, it went down through 
fifty feet of solid granite rock, and needed no wall. The 
top was very satisfactorily enclosed by a curb of boards 
to keep out rabbits and snakes — a most necessary addition 
to any well, in any country. 

Along the arroyo of the well the mesquite trees were 
large and heavily laden with sinister-looking clumps of 
mistletoe. 

At three o'clock we reached Hayes's Well, twenty miles 
from Roble's; and then an interesting question arose. 
It was this: Shall we go on eight miles farther, to the 
next well, arrive there after dark, and make twenty-seven 
miles for the day, or shall we camp where we are ? For 
once, Charlie Foster did not know anything about the 
character of the well ahead. 

Without knowing precisely why, Dr. MacDougal de- 
cided that we would not take chances on reaching the next 
well that day, but would camp where we were. So at 
Hayes's Well we camped, in a tract of desert jungle of 
mesquite and palo verde that much resembled a peach or- 
chard. There were very few cacti, but the grass was good. 

The next day, about eleven o'clock, we reached "the 
well ahead"; and when we looked into it, we shuddered 
and said, "Ugh! Good gracious!" 

It had no curb. Its mouth was at the ground level, 
and wide open. Twenty feet down, on the surface of a 
wide expanse of black water, there floated a dead rattle- 
snake, swollen to the size of a man's arm, half decom- 
posed and ghastly white. 



6o CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Had we pulled up to that well an hour after sunset, 
in pitchy darkness, with horses and men tired, heated 
and thirsty, we would have sent our canvas pail down 
into that horrid hole and tried hard to make use of its 
awful water! Possibly we would have detected the pres- 
ence of some dead thing that was much worse than usual, 
and gone without water until noon the next day; but that 
possibility is open to doubt. Some one might have said, 
as usual in such cases, 

*'Oh, it's nothing but a dead rabbit!" And we might, 
under stress of the occasion, have used that water for 
man and beast. We were right thankful that the Doctor's 
instinct-of-the-desert impelled him to order a halt at 
Hayes's Well, and saved us from that rattlesnake. 

In Arizona and California there should be state laws 
by means of which any county failing to maintain a snake- 
proof and rabbit-proof curb around each of its desert 
wells might be fined heavily. 

On this day we passed through a real forest of giant 
cacti, where those desert wonders grew thickly and large. 
About eleven o'clock, and three miles from the Comobabi 
Gap, we entered the domain of the barrel cactus, or bis- 
naga, though I do not mean to say that none had been 
observed previously. It was there, however, that we found 
them growing very large, and numerously. It was there, 
also, that Dr. MacDougal operated upon a fine, big 
specimen, and showed us how to obtain from it a sup- 
ply of good drinking water; all of which will appear 
later on. 

We also passed through a tract that was especially 



THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 6i 

devoted to the ocatilla, for there they were so numerous it 
was Hke an ocatilla nursery. Such manifestations were 
rather common, even unto MacDougal Pass; and the 
ensemble of so queer a forest is delightfully odd and inter- 
esting. Many of the specimens we saw that day were 
fifteen feet high. 

As if to have their turn, there was also a special forest 
of extra large mesquite and palo verde trees; and such 
tracts always resemble an orchard of apple-trees and 
peach-trees, mixed together, half-way into full leaf. 

The midday hours of our third day out found us in 
the narrow gap that passes the trail through the Comobabi 
Mountains, fifty miles from Tucson. There, also, we 
came to the Papago Indian village of Comobabi, or rather 
two villages, occupying two commanding ridges that come 
down from the southerly mountains with a ravine between 
them. The trail led us into the heart of the westernmost 
town, and there we found about thirty very decent houses, 
and a hand-made "tank" of dark-brown water full of 
wigglers. 

The habitants were all away, not even so much as a 
dog remaining. Charlie Foster explained that they were 
gone to their ** temporal" quarters, near their fields of 
ripening corn, and the men were busily engaged in har- 
vesting and getting drunk. It seems that the annual corn- 
shucking bee is always taken as an excuse for a great orgie, 
in which every man — and possibly an occasional woman, 
also — gets fighting drunk on whiskey made from unripe 
corn, fermented literally "while you wait." This corn- 
juice episode continues for about a week, during which 



62 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

period the Papago patient is regarded as "bad medicine," 
and is carefully avoided by every weather-wise paleface. 

The absence of the Indians gave us an excellent op- 
portunity to examine their domiciles. Now, it happens 
that the Papago Indians — whose name is Spanish, signi- 
fying "Bean-Eater" — are averse to being photographed, 
for reasons quite sufficient for home use. They think that 
a photograph of a man takes from him a part of his spirit, 
and exercises over him an undesirable influence. There- 
fore do they resist the making of photographs of themselves. 
Had the Bean-Eaters been at home, we certainly would 
not have been quietly sufl^ered to work our will on their 
ancestral halls as we did that day. 

Dr. MacDougal said, "It is entirely possible that a 
settlement of Papago Indians has existed on this spot, or 
at least very near it, for the last five hundred years!" 

I was greatly surprised by the thorough cleanliness 
of the village, and the absence of malodorous refuse. 
Assuredly those Indians know something of the virtues 
of sanitation; and they are not slothful in the business 
of keeping their villages clean. The expected garbage 
heaps, and their attendant swarms of flies, were absent; 
and the absence of newspapers blowing about the streets 
made my eastern home seem very far away. True, there 
was a small quantity of cast-off civilized things behind one 
of the houses, but it was composed of inorganic matter 
and offered no field for the village board of health. 

Externally, the houses are very well shown by Dr. 
MacDougal's photograph. The main building of each 
establishment was always either of adobe (sun-dried 



THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 63 

bricks of local mud) or rough stone neatly laid up in 
courses. In front of each house was a veranda consisting 
of a roof of poles covered with earth, or leaves, or some- 
thing that would yield shade. Within, the houses con- 
tained very little, except strong presumptive evidence of 
contact with modern civilization — the craziest crazy-quilt 
on earth. We saw such things as worn-out feminine shoes 
with high French heels; corsets out of commission; tin 
cans, and broken kerosene lamps. I looked in vain for 
the remains of bicycles and automobiles; but assuredly 
they will come in time. 

Two or three doors were locked, with padlocks; but 
so far as we could see, there was nothing within that 
even a tramp would covet or purloin. Along the side of 
one house was a shaded veranda, and in front of it was 
a close screen of dry ocatilla stems. Out in the open, in 
the centre of a group of houses, was a bake-oven, shaped 
like a miniature coke-oven, with a door in one side. 

There was one house that was of paramount interest, 
at least for that quiet spot. It seemed to be a town hall, 
and was large enough to hold a council of at least twenty 
Indians. It was locked with a padlock. In front of it 
was the Public Square — a twenty-foot area of bare earth, 
shaded by a flat roof of poles, supporting branches that 
once were green. In the refreshing shade of this public 
lounging-place there were two municipal benches, one of 
which boasted a back. 

The red water in the cattle's pool was relished by our 
thirsty horses, but the other members of the party balked 
at it. Charlie Foster was loaded with six empty canteens 



64 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

and sent off into the Unknown, where he said he knew of 
a well of good water. Even with the mercury only 95° 
in the shade, good water in a sun-baked desert is a highly 
prized luxury; and the white man who goes more than 
thirty-six hours without water usually goes down to stay. 

Strange to say, the village tank was situated, not deep 
down in the nearest arroyo, but up on the ridge! How 
it ever fills with rain-water is a mystery, and we leave it 
with the noble Bean-Eaters of Comobabi. 

We watered our horses in the reeking tank, fed them 
and gladly sat ourselves down in the scanty shade of the 
wagon, to rest and eat a frugal luncheon. A watermelon 
that had been saved from the raid on the Papago wagon 
was here broached, and quickly consumed; but it was 
Charlie's arrival with six canteens full of good water that 
really saved our lives. 

On the desert it is drink, drink, drink! from two 
hours after sunrise until one hour before sunset. Each 
man carries his personal canteen, and it is a duty that he 
owes his party to keep it with him, and fill it on every fair 
occasion. Unless you have travelled the arid regions, 
doubtless you have no idea how good water really is. I 
do not mean apoUinaris, or vichy, or white rock, or 
any other *' table water" of the Pampered Few, but just 
plain, old-fashioned H^O, of well, or *' water-hole," or 
desert "tank," as the case may be. Dr. MacDougal says 
that in the maximum heat of midsummer in the South- 
west an average able-bodied man consumes two gallons or 
more of drinking water daily. 

After the halt at the Comobabi Indian village, we 




rrom a photograph by D. T. MaclJougal 

Papago Indian Houses and Oven, at Comobabi 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 



Adobe House at Wall's Well 



THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 65 

trekked on westward, into a total of twenty-eight miles 
for the day. About mid-afternoon Dr. MacDougal's keen 
botanical eye caught sight of a very large giant cactus 
with a flourishing and audacious bunch of prickly pear 
iPpuntia) growing upon the tip-top of the main stem. 
In the presence of so novel a development, the like of 
which never had been seen before, there was but one thing 
to do. The doctor's "big camera" was hauled out, un- 
limbered and wheeled into action, and a fine photograph 
was the result. 

At sunset we halted our tired horses at another 
Indian-made tank, in a very red desert. We were then 
at the geographical centre of the great Santa Rosa 
Valley, at the crossing of the north-and-south trail to 
Casa Grande, and the Camp was No. 3. During the 
day we had descended 1,000 feet, and the elevation was 
2,180 feet. 

The level plain stretched away northward and south- 
ward for miles that seemed endless; and the prospect 
was almost wholly creosote bushes. Near by were two 
Indian houses, adobe style, but at that time both were 
tenantless. We camped on the bare red plain, close beside 
a high embankment of red earth, on the farther side of 
which lay the half acre of red "tank" water. To create 
that water supply, some one had expended no small amount 
of hard labour, and we duly appreciated the effort. While 
we were outspanning, two Papago Indian youths rode up 
on burros to the top of the embankment, halted, and for 
fifteen minutes sat there like statues, intently regarding us, 
but neither moving nor speaking. When they began to 



66 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

grow a trifle monotonous, they rode away, as silently as 
they came. 

Just at sunset, when our little lonesome world was 
settling down for the night, some one excitedly announced 
a discovery. 

"There are two ducks in the tank!" 

Some one else quickly caught up a loaded shot-gun, 
and hurried along the side of the embankment to the upper 
end of the water. Secretly, I hoped that those ducks 
would take alarm, and fly away in time. To shoot those 
lonesome little birds that had flown on weary wing over 
a good hundred miles of waterless desert, clear down from 
the Gila River, seemed to me like a sin against Nature. 
On a great occasion I can kill a head of game, but to me 
those two individual ducks seemed entitled to our hos- 
pitality and protection. 

And the goddess Vishnu elected to preserve them. 
When we heard the report of the gun, our spirits sank; 
but when the hunter quickly returned with the terse an- 
nouncement, "I missed them!" some one said, 

^Tm glad of it!" And to our surprise he answered, 
"So am I!" 

The ducks remind me of the things killed during the 
day by Mr. Phillips for the frying-pan. We had thirteen 
Gambel quail, two cotton-tail rabbits (weight of largest, 
one and one-half pounds) and one Arizona jack rabbit 
(skeletonized; weight four and one-half pounds). Six 
of the quails weighed exactly two and one-half pounds. 
During the day we saw about one hundred and fifty quail, 
twenty jack rabbits, twelve cotton-tail rabbits, one coyote, 



THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 67 

two Harris's antelope squirrels {Ammospermophilus har- 
risi), four badger holes, one western red-tailed hawk (on 
a giant cactus), one eagle and eighteen ravens. 

Early in the forenoon of November 5th, our fourth 
day from Tucson, we came to another north-and-south 
range of gray-granite mountains. The main range is 
called the Quijotoa Mountains, and, fortunately for travel- 
lers, an excellent gap has been left midway through it for 
the passage of the trail. Westward of the Key-ho-to'as — 
as it is pronounced — a short range, called the Sierra 
Blanca, rises close beside the trail, and runs off north- 
westwardly for about ten miles. 

Within the gap we passed several Papago villages, of 
eight or ten houses each, and about forty of the inhabi- 
tants were at home. The trail led quite near one village; 
and men, women and children arose from their arduous 
occupations of sitting vicariously in the shade, and gathered 
near the trail to inspect us. 

They all wore the unattractive raiment of cheap civil- 
ization; and to me, Anglo-Saxon clothes on a savage 
invariably look out of place. If an Indian is not pictu- 
resque, why is he ? During the past twenty years we have 
had so much thrust upon us about our south-western 
Indians, the whole lot begins to grow passe. At present, 
the only apparent use of the south-western Indian is to 
furnish trips to good fellows who need outings. Ethno- 
logically, he is a squeezed lemon, and so far as some of 
us are concerned, he is welcome to enjoy a good, long 
rest. 

The trail passes quite near a small graveyard, which 



68 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

contains about twenty graves, each one marked by a white 
wooden cross. With a friendly salutation we passed the 
Indians, and I think no one felt the slightest desire to 
photograph any of them. 

In that pass were three wells, and the best one was a 
mile westward of the last village, at the foot of a long 
ridge, curbed and covered. Near it we outspanned and 
spent the noon hour. While our horses ate, the members 
of the party who were not photographers filled all the 
water cans at the well; for the next camp was to be a 
"dry" one. 

Ever since leaving Tucson, Doctor MacDougal had at 
intervals whetted the edge of our curiosity regarding the 
organ-pipe cactus. He was keen to know the extreme 
northern limit of that remarkable species, and whenever 
we came near mountains, he sharply watched for it. He 
said it was a large cactus, with many upright stems grow- 
ing in a cluster, and rising like the pipes of a church organ. 
He even offered a reward to whomsoever might be the 
first to sight the plant; and what do you think the reward 
was to be? 

" — A drink of cane-and-maple syrup, fresh from the 
can!" 

The organ-pipe cactus* was seen for the first time 
growing on the foothills of the Sierra Blanca. Its latitude 
there is the same as that of Tucson. Later on we found 
its northern limit in the Ajo Valley at the Ajo Mines, 
forty miles south of Gila Bend. The species stayed with 
us until we reached the eastern edge of the Pinacate lava 

*Cereus thurberi. 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

Mr. Sykes Reflects Gloomily over the Grave of a Murdered Mexican, 
beside a Creosote Bush 




From a photograph by J. AI. Phillips 

Organ-Pipe Cactus and young Giant Cactus 



THE PANORAMA OF THE DESERT 69 

field, on the Sonoyta River, where I made one of the best 
of my pictures. 

And truly, this plant is a very striking and interesting 
development. My prize specimen was twenty feet high, 
and contained twenty-two stems — as will appear later on. 
It was the tallest specimen that we saw in one hundred and 
forty miles of this species. 



CHAPTER VII 

FROM THE QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS 

The Cubo Valley — A Typical Flood Basin — The Prize Giant Cactus — 
A Beautiful Camp at Wall's Well — The Ajo Lily — Montezuma's 
Head — Down the Ajo Valley — A Lava Ridge — The Grave of a 
Murdered Mexican — Across the Boundary and into Mexico. 

On leaving the Covered Well in the Quijotoa Pass v^e 
entered the eastern edge of a desert plain called the Cubo 
Valley. It is thirty miles wide, from east to west, and at 
least fifty miles long. It is strictly a flood basin, for no 
stream worthy of a name flows out of it. The waters 
that run into the plain from the surrounding mountains 
are absorbed locally, and the few shallow arroyos that do 
exist, lead nowhere. As happens on many a flood basin 
and plain, there are places where the vegetation secures 
an unusual amount of water, and develops accordingly. 
It was a common occurrence for us to pass through a tract 
of tall and rank mesquite, palo verde and creosote bushes. 
Four-fifths of the Cubo Valley is covered with creosote 
bushes, the other fifth being mesquite. The giant cactus 
was absent, but the choya persisted, and at intervals held 
its place. 

The centre and western half of the Cubo Valley is 
an excellent example of the flood basin — a very important 

feature in the composition of the Arizona deserts. The 

70 



QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS 71 

storm waters which flow into it from its boundary moun- 
tains and spread out, have stimulated the growth of creo- 
sote, mesquite and palo verde until they have grown to 
double their average height on rolling plains. For miles 
on end, we pulled, and also tramped on foot, through 
country that was like a vast orchard of peach-trees, much 
taller than a man. 

It was in such a spot that we finally halted for the night, 
and made a dry camp in the middle of the plain. Our 
travel for the day was twenty-one miles. We were ninety- 
five miles from Tucson, and the elevation was about 2,000 
feet above sea level. 

The wild-animal record for the day embraced a forty- 
eight-inch Texas diamond-back rattlesnake {Crotalus 
atrox), a desert horned owl, killed by Mexican Charlie, 
and about two hundred Gambel quail — seen, but not 
killed. 

During the night a heavy dew fell upon us, rendering 
the outer blanket of my sleeping-bag quite wet; and the 
night was also very cold. At sunrise the temperature was 
42° F. While the camp was being deconsecrated and 
repacked in the wagons, I skinned the horned owl, and 
finished the task on time — much as I disliked the diversion 
at that hour. Each of our horses had consumed five 
gallons of water from the cans, and five gallons more sup- 
plied the wants of the seven humans. 

The road westward of our dry camp was rather bad, 
because the ground was soft, and the old trail had been so 
badly washed out by storm-water we were obliged to 
abandon it, and strike out a new track alongside, through 



72 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the bushes. Fortunately the barren spaces between the 
trees were sufficiently wide and constant that no chopping 
was necessary. Because of the heavy labour for the 
teams, the four passengers walked during the whole of 
the forenoon. 

It was during this walk ahead of the wagons, and not 
far from the Ajo Mountains, that the giant cactus* joined 
us once more. And presently an exciting incident oc- 
curred. I found beside the trail a giant cactus of truly 
gigantic proportions, and supplied with nine huge branches. 
My collector's instinct at once told me that that saguaro 
was, in all probability, the finest specimen in all Arizona, 
and the very finest out of a million. Feeling perfectly 
certain that we would not see its equal, I photographed 
it to the best of my ability, and to make absolutely sure 
of a good picture, Mr. Phillips also took it. Both results 
were satisfactory, and having Mr. Phillips alongside for 
comparison, my effort is reproduced herewith. 

This giant was, by our best estimate, between fifty- 
five and sixty feet high, and its assemblage of massive 
arms, all symmetrically developed, made it look like a 
huge green candelabra with accordion plaits, and stickers 
all over its ridges. 

Subsequent observations proved that the specimen de- 
scribed above really was the finest example of its kind that 
we saw on our entire trip; and it is a smug satisfaction 
to remember that we secured two good pictures of it when 
we had the chance. In the great south-western arboreal 
desert I have two Items of personal property. That 

* Cereus giganteus. 





From a photograph by the author. 



The Finest Giant Cactus 



QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS ^ 

cactus is one, and the other is a certain grand-prize organ- 
pipe cactus between Agua Dulce and the Playa Salada, or 
Alkali Plain, on the Sonoyta River. 

Early in the afternoon we reached the gap between the 
Gunsight Mountains on the north and the Ajo Mountains 
(please pronounce it Ah'ho) on the south, at a point five 
miles south of the Gunsight Mines. WalFs Well is situ- 
ated in the gap, and inasmuch as there is not a drop of 
water between that well and Sonoyta, we were obliged to 
camp there in order to make the Sonoyta Oasis with only 
one dry camp between. 

Wall's Well, or "Wall," as it once was called, is very 
much to our mind. It was three o'clock of a perfectly 
glorious Arizona afternoon when we surprised and de- 
lighted our horses by outspanning for the day, and turning 
them loose to graze. I think that even the most jaundiced 
man must feel symptoms of pleasure in seeing a tired 
and heated horse roll on a bed of clean sand, over and 
back, then get up and shake himself, and snort his thanks. 

We parked our battery on a beautiful level stretch of 
clean sand, in the shade of some big mesquite trees, a 
cable's length beyond the well. Quickly we took ad- 
vantage of the opportunity to air our sleeping-bags and 
overhaul our war-sacks. 

At three o'clock the day was mildly hot — and just right 
for a jolly bath. While my companions presently scat- 
tered to work out various designs — the Doctor and Mr. 
PhiUips to hunt deer, and Mr. Sykes to cHmb a mountain 
for observations — I repaired to the neighbourhood of the 
well. 



74 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

With our largest canvas pail full of water, and a basin, 
I took a pouring-bath, after the manner of India, and 
acquired merit. It strikes me as singular that outside of 
India, and the haunts of those who have been there, 
sportsmen and travellers generally do not seem to know 
how easily and cheaply one may obtain, with two pails 
of water and a great cup to dip with, a fine and enjoyable 
bath. The average American sportsman thinks of but 
two possibilities — a nerve-racking plunge in a cold stream, 
or an inadequate rub with a sponge; but a Wise One, 
when water is scarce, can obtain excellent results from 
even a single pailful of water. The whole secret lies in 
the serving of the different courses from soap to rinse, and 
in skilful pouring on the back of the patient's neck. 

Wall's Well is the most beautiful and comfortable spot 
between Tucson and Sonoyta — s. f. a. k. For a circum- 
ference of five hundred feet around the well it is like a 
Belasco scene in a theatre. I regret that I can neither 
show it all in one picture nor spare space for the series of 
half-a-dozen that would be required to do it justice with 
the Reader. But let us stand for a moment on the 
gravelly knoll above the well, and look westward. 

In the foreground is the Well itself, carefully penned 
in with posts and planks to keep out any wandering horse 
that otherwise might become involved. There is a trough, 
a rope and a pail; and the water is fairly good. Immedi- 
ately beyond the well the stage is clear, and covered with 
clean, smooth sand. Beyond that rises a green ruching 
of mesquite, palo verde and desert willow trees, that bor- 
der a large but very dry sandy arroyo. Beyond that is the 



QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS ^^ 

foot of a terminal ridge that comes down from the Ajo 
Mountains; and on beyond that looms up a remarkable 
peak that is called Montezuma's Head. 

Now, according to the best map of Pima County, that 
peak should be four miles south-eastward of the Well; but 
there you find it, full and fair in the eye of the sinking sun, 
a head-and-shoulders of bald, red rock, and you can take 
it or leave it. But, even though out of place, it is a re- 
markable peak, and has several different faces, according 
to the point of view. From a certain point in the north- 
west, as we found next day, it resembles a bust of George 
Washington in profile. From the well its top resembles 
the neck of a Hollandaise gin-bottle with a high cork in 
situ — or an unveiled statue in its swaddling clothes. At 
all events, the cork-like summit looks absolutely unscal- 
able, and I think it is so; for all of its faces seem either 
perpendicular, or worse. Naturally, this peak is a con- 
spicuous landmark for desert travellers, but particularly 
for those in the Ajo Valley. From the eastern points of 
the compass it is mostly hidden by intervening mountains. 
It seemed to be about two miles westward from the Well. 

Wall's Well once was the seat of a serious mining in- 
dustry, but now it is owned by the rabbits and ravens. 
Within a long stone-throw of our camp-fire there stood 
a huge pair of boilers nearly large enough to run a man- 
of-war. 

Although now numbered with the has-beens, they are 
not badly rusted. Surely the hauling of those iron mon- 
sters from the railway, sixty-five miles across the desert, 
was a formidable undertaking; and all for naught. To- 



76 



CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 



day they are not even of value as scrap-iron. As they 
stood there in the open, level and plumb on a base of solid 
masonry, rising far higher than a man's head and staring 
dumbly into the desert out of their tvi^o big fire-door eyes, 
they seemed almost like living things, waiting for the rescue 
that never comes. I have heard a rumour that once those 










«^^~>. 




The ghost of a dead industry, at Wall's Well. 

boilers pumped water through a two-inch pipe to the 
Gunsight Mines, five miles away; but it needs confirma- 
tion. 

Near the boilers stood the crumbling ruins of what 
once was a fine adobe building, undoubtedly the head- 
quarters of the mining company that once operated here. 
There is no masonry building, save only a Buddensiek 
building in New York, that crumbles down so quickly as 




il^ 



s 



1 ^ 

./ j 

1 
! 

■V 




QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS ^^ 

one built with adobe walls and covered with earth. First, 
and very promptly, too, the roof collapses and falls to the 
floor, and after that the walls soon follow. At the finish, 
only a tiny mound of fine earth remains ; and that affords 
excellent soil for the beans of the mesquite. 

On the knoll above the ruins stood a very good Mexican 
adobe house, with a rustic veranda of mesquite posts and 
the usual roof of loose material. Fortunately, it was un- 
occupied, and Mr. Phillips and I exploited it without 
hindrance. 

It was at Wall's Well that Dr. MacDougal found and 
pointed out for the first time two very interesting plants. 
One was the Ajo Lily,* from which the next valley, and the 
very extensive mountain range beyond it, derived their 
names. It was not then in bloom, and all we saw of it was 
three very long and very slender, dark-green leaves lying 
upon the sand, radiating. The leaves were about twelve 
inches long by half-an-inch in width. On digging for its 
root, we found a long string of soft, white fibre going down 
about eighteen inches below the surface to a tiny white 
bulb, like an onion-set. 

When chewed it was mucilaginous, and had a per- 
ceptible onion flavour. Mr. Sykes tried it out, and said 
that its flavour was ''beastly." 

The Ajo — which for convenience we may call the Ajo 
Lily^ was found from Wall's Well to the Pinacate lava 
region, where it had to halt. 

The other interesting plant brought in by The Botanist 
was the tannin plant or canaigre {Rumex hymenosepalus), 

*HesperocaUus undulatus. 



78 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

whose thick, beet-like root contains more tannin than any- 
thing this side of oak bark. To the human taste, the 
astringency of it is very powerful, but, unfortunately, the 
root cannot be grown in sufficient quantities to constitute 
an important factor in the leather industry. 

The hunters for deer killed naught, but I saved the 
day's record by skeletonizing a black-tailed jack-rabbit 
for the Carnegie Museum. Frank Coles and his best 
man, Jesse Jenkins, filled all the water cans at the well; 
and with a rattling good supper of roast quail, surpassing 
hot biscuits from the Dutch ovens, other good things of 
sorts and a most perfect camp-fire, we ended a never-to- 
be-forgotten day. 

On leaving Wall's Well, we described a quarter of a 
circle around Montezuma's Head — quite as if there had 
been a three-mile rope attaching us to the mountain — 
entered the Ajo Valley, and headed due south for Sonoyta. 
That last feature seemed like getting toward our goal; and 
for that leg of our journey, the country altered very notice- 
ably. This "valley" is really a valley, with what stage 
managers would call "practicable mountains" near at 
hand on both sides, walling it in. The ground is hilly 
and hard, and stony; and the arroyos are many, and 
sometimes serious. The ocatilla takes its place in the 
landscape as a prominent and permanent feature, espe- 
cially on the bare and stony slopes that came down from 
the Ajo Mountains. The organ-pipe cactus was seen at 
intervals all day on the lower slopes of the Ajo range. 

At noon we halted in a very picturesque spot in the 
gently rolling plain, to permit our faithful horses to graze 



QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS 79 

for an hour in a meadow that simply could not be ig- 
nored. Quite near at hand were several very interesting 
things. 

The ocatillas were the finest that we had found, and 
despite a brisk breeze, in which the tall, green stems 
waved gracefully but far too much, I set my shutter at 
one-two-hundredth of a second and took them success- 
fully. Later on in the trip, another ocatilla that I tried 
to photograph with every condition in my favour was a 
total failure; and again was demonstrated the correctness 
of the golden rule in collecting: Take the first good 
specimen you find, for fear you never find another! 

Within a stone's throw of our wagons, we found a 
splendid nest of a white-throated pack rat,* and on finding 
that Mr. Phillips was hopelessly busy in photographing a 
live Gambel quail, and likely to remain so, I set up my 
camera and essayed to take it myself. In view of the 
greatness of my need for a good picture, and of my soulful 
effort to do everything right, the picture that resulted is 
one of the wonders of the trip. It was an unqualified 
success — "wf^-dle sharp!" — as Mr. E. F. Keller says of 
negatives that are extra fine. But after all, I did make one 
great mistake. It was in not photographing Mr. Phillips 
and Frank Coles as Coles herded the quail, and the Game 
Commissioner held his camera far in front of himself, 
stooped low and straddled far, with that hungry look on 
his face, as he followed up the doomed quail. Mr. Sykes 
saw the spectacle, and fired his camera at it, but the result 
was not a success. 

*Neotoma alhigula. 



8o CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

As usual in such cases, Mr. Phillips was successful, as 
will be seen herewith. 

The afternoon was cool, and the horses trotted along 
rapidly. Westward of us rose the Growler Mountains, 
but we came to a range standing east and west across our 
course that was totally absent from the maps. Beyond 
that we soon reached the top of a water-shed, from which 
the arroyos all ran southward, toward the Sonoyta River. 

At night we made a dry camp on the bank of a charm- 
ing arroyo that was well set in grass for our horses, just 
ten miles from the International Boundary and twelve 
from Sonoyta. Less than a mile away to the westward 
ran a miniature mountain range four miles long and six 
hundred feet high, all quite absent from the map until Mr. 
Sykes put it on. Having an hour at our disposal before 
the setting of the sun and the rising of the Dutch oven. 
The Four armed themselves and scattered. I chose the 
western ridge, and hoped to find deer about it, some- 
where. 

That ridge proved to be all lava! It was a mass of 
dark brown material, in chunks varying from small 
pebbles up to the size of piano-boxes, and all of it inde- 
scribably rough. Like most lava its surfaces were deeply 
pitted, and the finer grades were decomposing into dark- 
coloured earth, capable of sustaining plant life. This 
was the first evidence of volcanic activity that we had 
observed, and it represented an isolated straggler cone, 
quite surrounded by granite formations, and about forty 
miles from the edge of the great bed that we discovered 
later on. 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

Gambel's Quail and Ocatilla, with leaves and thorns 




From a photograph by the Author 

Nest of Pack-Rat, in the Ajo Valley 



QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS Sr 

At supper that night, November 7th, and six days from 
Tucson, the last of our quarter of fresh beef was con- 
sumed. I mention this because some of us regarded its 
longevity in that warm-day weather as a little remarkable. 
It was the dryness of the atmosphere, and the coldness of 
the nights, that preserved it so long. Our cooks took 
pains to expose the beef each night in such a manner that 
the nightly cold would reach it, while the nightly coyote 
could not. 

It is quite near this camp that the trail passes the grave 
of a Mexican mail-carrier who was murdered by Apaches. 
The Indians hid in an arroyo among the mesquites and 
palo verde, and without giving the Unfortunate the slight- 
est chance for his life, shot him to death. By his own 
people he was buried where he fell, beside a large creosote 
bush, and upon his grave a score of stones were laid out 
in the shape of a cross. While Mr. Sykes stood near the 
grave, gloomily reflecting on the sad fate of its occupant, 
and the uncertainties of Life in the Far South-west, Mr. 
Phillips properly recorded the episode with his camera. 

The next day, November 8th, was a great one; for on 
it we crossed the boundary. 

We were astir unusually early, and by half-past seven 
were rattling southward on an easy down grade. Plant 
life and tree life became secondary considerations, and all 
eyes were focused ahead. Straight across the end of the 
green Ajo Valley, and quite far away, a lofty range of 
mountains with two peaks atop rose into the blue ether, 
higher than any of the mountains elsewhere along the 
trail. In front of them were high, round-topped foot- 



82 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

hills; and were they "this side of the Sonoyta River, or 
the other?" 

Clearly, the high range was beyond the tiny river that 
makes the oasis. As the trotting teams ate up the inter- 
vening miles, the Sonoyta plain and valley began to focus 
more sharply on the screen. Presently we were assured 
that the river was "this side" of the small hills; but in the 
green plain the course of the Sonoyta River was not dis- 
cernible; nor was there the slightest sign of civilization. 

About ten o'clock some one shouted, 

" Yonder's the boundary! See, there is a monument!" 

On the crest of a lofty hill of rock, away to our right, 
was a snow-white pyramid of solid masonry, which we 
knew must be "169." It seemed a long way, however, 
down to the cast-iron-post monument. No. 167, which 
stands low down on the plain, two hundred yards from the 
trail. By the two, however, you are made aware that the 
direction of the boundary, all the way from Nogales to 
the Colorado River, is about N 60° W. 

From the boundary, the Sonoyta Valley looks quite 
like the arboreal desert, generally, except that the green 
ruffles winding through it at its lowest level marks the 
course of the river. The highest peak of the lofty moun- 
tain opposite is 4,300 feet high. I know because Mr. 
Sykes climbed it with an aneroid. 

Now, here is a very absurd fact; but no patriotic 
Mexican ever will believe it, even though he should see it 
himself. The moment we crossed the boundary into Mex- 
ico, we struck two miles of the most barren and uninteresting 
desert that we saw on our whole trip! The ground was 



QUIJOTOA PASS TO THE MEXICAN OASIS 83 

strongly alkaline, in places quite dead and bare, and I 
noted the change with mingled surprise and amusement. 
But right there I met an old and esteemed friend from 
Montana, named Artemisia tomentosa. It was the narrow- 
leaved mugwort, a species of very aromatic sage-brush, 
containing very little woody fibre. I met it in the Bad- 
Lands of Hell Creek, in the barren "blow-outs," where the 
mule-deer were feeding upon it most greedily, to the com- 
plete exclusion of the finest range grasses I ever saw. 

In the upper Sonoyta valley this plant abounds, and 
the clumps grow so rankly that sometimes they reach a 
height of four feet. But it seems that nothing feeds upon 
it. 

At last a sharp westward curve in the trail led us along 
the southern foot of a high ridge of decomposing granite, 
through creosote bushes, organ-pipes and giant cacti 
that are here very small and limbless. On our left we 
saw a little stream, like a tiny creek, with the desert coming 
down to its northern margin. But the small stream had 
said to the desert, 

"Stop, thou — here! Thus far, but no farther!" 

And twenty feet away, on the southern bank, the oasis 
began and ran riot. The other side was a perfect jungle 
of desert willows and other small trees, in which a man 
might lose himself, for at least five minutes. 

All of a sudden the trail wheeled abruptly to the left; 
our teams dashed down a steep slope, splashed through 
a stream — a running stream of clear, pure water, and on 
the other side was Sonoyta. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE SONOYTA OASIS 

An Isolated Community — ^Sketch of Sonoyta — Judge Traino Quiroz 
and His Family — The Sorrows of an Amateur Photographer — ■ 
Life in Sonoyta — Fruits — Absence of Grafters — Our Official En- 
trance into Mexico — Lieutenant Jesus Medina and the Fiscal Guard 
— An Annoying Slip of a Pen — Mr. Jeff Milton, Inspector of Immi- 
gration — A Man of Many "Gun" Episodes. 

A HUNDRED times over, as I have looked on the maps 
at the queer Papago-Indian name "Sonoyta" — the only 
name printed on the long, bare stretch of 234 miles between 
Nogales and the Colorado River — I have wondered about 
that lonesome little spot. So far as I have read, no one 
ever has taken the trouble to write more than ten lines 
regarding the ensemble of the place and its people, and 
everything was left to the imagination. In my mind's 
eye, Horatio, it finally took shape as a hamlet of swash- 
bucklers and ex-criminals of two nations, a tough Amer- 
ican with a saloon and gambling-place, an adobe church 
with a cross atop, a priest, a Mexican custom-house and 
post-office, and a fringe of real *' blanket" Indians. 

By the morning of November 8th, I was almost con- 
sumed with curiosity; and then we found that in not one 
particular did Sonoyta resemble my imaginary picture of 
it! I was glad that it did not. 

On overlooking the Sonoyta Oasis from the north — 




'■n jj 



THE SONOYTA OASIS 



85 



which for some curious reason no one ever has called an 
"oasis" until now — ^we saw a compromise between desert 
and running water. Near at hand, along the north, a 
fringe of compact, willowy jungle marks the course of the 
river. Beyond that lies a line of naked-November fields ; 
then a long, hedge-like line of bushes starting in good form 
on the left, with a scattering of tall trees, and at the extreme 




R£PACOINOlAN 
StTTUEMENT 






t^'£ifi>'S.-gSM.¥m . .: •-*•. -^ ^ — B MAIN STREETr " " 

• .- , ••."•? -M 'O .^' " ' • ' ARBOREAI. DESERT -. " V ♦■.•"•. ,.*' .a." t * ', •*",■••. 



Sketch map of the Sonoyta Oasis in 1907, 



right terminating in a lofty grove of dark-green foliage. 
Beyond that hedge-line there lies another procession of 
bare fields, another green string of hedge and more fields. 
As a border for the last series of fields there is a straggling 
growth of tall trees, and a string of adobe houses to the 
number of a dozen or so. Then comes the desert once 
more, planted full of creosote bushes ten feet apart; and 
in the distance a long line of mountains rises like a stage 
background. 



86 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

So-noy'ta is a Papago-Indian word; and it means 
"The-Place-Where-Corn- Will-Grow." 

Those three long green lines of hedge in the middle 
distance, that parallel the river, mark the courses of the 
three irrigating ditches of river water that give the Oasis 
its life. They are the arteries of Sonoyta. Burst the 
dam above them, and you break Sonoyta. 

In November, the bare fields are the colour of the 
desert, and it is only the few tall trees stringing along 
the watercourses that make the settlement look unlike 
any other portion of the river valley, eastward or west- 
ward. Viewed from the ridge-side north of the river, the 
houses of the settlement are almost invisible. 

Inasmuch as no one (s. f. a. k.) has taken the trouble 
to map this Sonoyta settlement, I have made so bold as 
to prepare a sketch map myself, made of notes gathered 
as I walked about on urgent business, and from our 
photographs. I made no measurements, and the scale 
was fixed by General Estimate. 

We dashed across the brook-like Sonoyta River, pulled 
through the fringe of desert willows on its southern bank, 
splashed through a wide pool where ditch No. i crossed 
the trail, and entered a narrow and ragged green lane 
leading south. On our right there was a most inviting 
grove of fig and pomegranate trees, and white cotton- 
woods; but, strange to say, there was no house to 
match it. 

At a turn in the lane, on the bank of ditch No. 2, we 
came to a two-family adobe house, with a stone mill in 
front of it. Four Mexican men in immaculately clean 



88 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the square adobe box of a house In which Hves the young 
Mexican woman whom the young men of Sonoyta call 
**the Singing Bird," because she warbles tunefully. On 
the left is the store and mescal establishment of Sefior 
Jesus Molina, who was very civil to us, and kindly carried 
our mail-bag to the Ajo Mines, as we headed for Pinacate. 

Sefior Molina has seven children. At our request the 
whole family, with the Oldest Inhabitant — a venerable- 
looking man of 76, with a patriarchal beard — and several 
extra children, grouped themselves in front of the Molina 
door and in most friendly fashion stood for a picture. 
Opposite the Molina home was a picturesque habitation 
behind a fence of mesquite stems, all of which we took on 
a film for our own. The home of the Singing Bird is at 
the top of the knoll. 

But the home and family of the Leading Citizen were 
at the other end of the street; and thither we went under 
the guidance of Mr. Milton. 

Judge Traino Quiroz is a small man of 52, with a 
refined and intelligent face, a low, musical voice and the 
manners of a Castilian gentleman. His house, his mill, 
his forge, and his little park behind the fence across the 
way, constitute a very interesting establishment; and we 
were graciously permitted to inspect everything. Most 
interesting of all, after the Judge himself, is his family — 
fortunately an unbroken circle. 

Sefiora Maria Jesus Quiroz is the mother of five fine 
children; and they are her jewels. Her home and her 
children show the tireless hand of the diligent wife and 
mother, whose work is never done. It is no child's play to 



THE SONOYTA OASIS 89 

rear a family In a far-away spot like Sonoyta, where there 
is neither school, teacher, doctor, church, priest nor post- 
office! 

We were at some pains to become acquainted with the 
children, and learn the name of each. 

The oldest child of the family is a young man of 
about twenty, whose name is Arturo, which is Spanish for 
Arthur. Next to him is a fine young woman of eighteen, 
named Dolores, who is truly the belle of Sonoyta. The 
next in order is a bashful boy named Ysable; and I was 
vastly amused by the imperious manner in which his 
Sister Helena, next younger than himself, inspected him, 
and condemned him, when the family was about to stand 
for a photograph. She saw that his hair was awry, and 
said in a low voice (of course in Spanish), 

"Your hair is not right for a picture. Go in and 
brush it!" 

"Oh, go on!" said Ysable, with irritation. "It will 
do very well." 

"It will not do! Go and fix it!" 

"Oh, keep quiet. I will not!" 

Then she flared up, fully equal to the occasion. 

"You lazy boy! You shall not look like that! (Stamp! 
Jerk!) Go in, this instant, and brush your hair!" 

"Oh, botheration!'' said Ysable, with an expression of 
great annoyance; but he went! And the neatly combed 
hair with which he presently emerged was a decided im- 
provement. Apparently the little mothers to big brothers 
are just the same in the Sonoyta Oasis as in New York. 

The last of the flock was Angelita — Little Angel — 



90 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

whom to see is to love. She was eight years old, I opine, 
and as dear a little Lady as one could wish to see. She 
wore a small corsage bouquet — from which I suspect that 
visitors were half expected on that afternoon, and her 
behaviour was perfect. The palefaces from the North 
did not frighten her in the least, and she posed for her 
picture as steady as a statue. 

The photographing of the Quiroz family is a sore sub- 
ject. I made what I hoped would be a good series of 
pictures of this fine Mexican family unit, and the effort 
cost its members no little trouble. Afterward, on another 
film, I took the mill, its burro motor and a Papago Indian 
on horseback who strayed by just then, and flinched not 
before the camera. 

Alas! for the evanescence of human endeavour! By 
a most deplorable accident in my war-sack, the film of the 
Quiroz family was ruined, and I have nothing to show or 
to send back save a picture which Mr. Phillips made, very 
hurriedly, with the intention of returning another day for 
a more serious effort. Verily, the camera is a great thing 
to teach men to bear disappointments; and the man who 
can monkey with it a whole month without using language ' 
shall acquire merit. 

The Margin of Life in Sonoyta is rather narrow. 1 
With a handicap so great, it couM not well be otherwise. •; 
The place would afford a leisurely political student a most ' 
interesting study in social economy. It makes me think 
of a balanced aquarium — wherein the fishes, the water 
and the plant life are so nicely adjusted that, with a trifling 
food supply from without, the status quo goes on indefi- 




l'"rom a photogniph by the Authcjr 

Stone Mill and Forge of Judge Quiroz 

The garlands hanging upon the forge-roof are flaming red peppers 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

The Leading Citizen of Sonoyta, Judge Traino Quiroz, and His Family 



THE SONOYTA OASIS 91 

iiitely. Sonoyta is nearly, though not entirely, an auto- 
matic settlement. The nearest place at which anything 
can be purchased outside is the little store at the Ajo 
mines, fifty miles away; and after that, Gila Bend, ninety 
miles distant, with only one well-watered camping-place 
en route. 

It is useless for the people of Sonoyta to raise much 
more of grain and fruit and vegetables than they consume, 
because there is no market available to them nearer than 
a long four days' haul across the desert; and even then 
they find only a tiny village, wanting very little. There- 
fore do they study to produce from the soil only the pro- 
ducts which they themselves can consume between 
harvests, and the alfalfa which their own horses re- 
quire. 

I heard of one man of Enterprise who thought to meet 
a demand, and met only disappointment. Thinking that 
he detected a desire for an extra supply of onions, he 
raised a large crop, only to find that he had produced an 
unmarketable surplus, that could neither be sold nor 
consumed. George Saunders told me that he was keenly 
disappointed, and had registered a solemn vow that never 
again would he raise anything to meet the wants of anyone 
outside his own family. 

Naturally, we were curious to see what fruits are 
grown in the Sonoyta Oasis. First of all I expected to 
find a fair showing of the citrous fruits — oranges and 
lemons; but they were, I think, quite absent. Just why 
they were not in evidence I failed to discover. Certainly 
there is no apparent reason why California oranges, 



92 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

lemons, cherries and other fruits cannot be grown in 
Sonoyta, by irrigation. 

Of fruit trees, only two kinds seemed to be in favour, 
or visible to the unaided eye. They were the fig and pome- 
granate. The former is well known, the latter not so well. 

The pomegranate*, as grown in the gardens of Sonoyta, 
is a rather open-topped tree from fifteen to twenty feet 
in height, deciduous, with long, lance-shaped leaves. It 
is a native of Asia. The fruit is about the size of an 
apple of medium size, with six well-defined sections that 
are pinched together at the top. It is sub-acid, edible of 
course, and in Mexico an ardent spirit is made from it. 

We saw fig and pomegranate trees growing in many 
places in Sonoyta, but best of all in the fenced garden of 
Judge Quiroz, opposite his dwelling. There, also, we 
were surprised at finding a miniature botanical garden, 
containing agaves of good size, and many interesting cacti. 
The slope of a tiny hill, mostly of rock, had been terraced, 
and the terrace beds had been planted with flowers — a 
most commendable effort. 

Naturally, the people of Sonoyta lead the simple life. 
With practically no market, either to supply or to draw 
upon, how could they do otherwise .? They are not 
tempted to overeat, nor drink too much, and therefore 
their bodily ailments are very few. I was told that there 
is a long list of northern-city diseases of which they know 
almost nothing. Think, oh! ye New Yorkers, of living 
in a place where tuberculosis, pneumonia, diphtheria, 
cancer, mastoiditis, laryngitis and appendicitis are prac- 

*Punica granatum. 



THE SONOYTA OASIS 93 

tically unknown, even "by hearsay!" Nervous prostra- 
tion is as impossible in Sonoyta as happiness is to an 
American countess. 

Unconsciously I found myself pitying the Sonoytans 
because they have no post-office, and no regular— nor even 
frequent — communication with the outside world. But 
after all, why should I ? What is the outside world and 
its turmoils to them ? Why should they be moved to 
indulge ambitions and desires which they cannot possibly 
gratify ? It is not kind to educate people into desiring a 
lot of things that they cannot have, and do not need! 
With remote and primitive people, who are handicapped 
by time and space, and in the case of savages by inherit- 
ance, it is by no means always a kindness to spread before 
them the curious crazy-quilt which we proudly call 
"civilization" — the most astounding mixture of virtue and 
vice, of goodness and meanness, of wisdom and idiocy 
that a finite mind can measure. 

I asked some one, "When a man becomes ill in 
Sonoyta, what is done about it?" 

" Oh, his own family, or some of his friends, take care 
of him the best they can, and give him the best medicines 
they happen to have." 

"But is there no one in the settlement so skilled and 
experienced in dosing sick people that he is called 
doctor'?" 

"JVo one, so far as I know." 

"When the mothers bear children, what happens?" 

"The women take care of each other; that is all." 

"Do you recall anything like an epidemic here?" 



94 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

**No; or at least not in recent years." 

We were well pleased by the treatment we received 
at the hands of the men of Sonoyta with whom we had 
occasion to do business. We expended there, all told, 
nearly ;^300 in the hire of horses, mules and men, and in 
purchases; but not once did the hydra-head Graft mon- 
ster, he of the seven heads and ten horns, rise and threaten 
to devour us. The people did not once overcharge us 
because we were strangers with money, and in need of 
things. For the eight horses that we hired, the price 
was only fifty cents each per day, in gold ; and it was very 
reasonable. And Mr. Escalante's attitude about the 
wagon we hired of him was admirable. Owing to a slip 
of somebody's pen, the free admission of our wagons into 
Mexico was not provided for; and it made us a little 
trouble. 

Finding ourselves under the necessity of hiring a 
wagon for the westward journey, some one went to a 
serious-faced, elderly Mexican farmer with a terribly deep 
voice, to engage the use of one owned by him. We simply 
had to have it. And Mr. Escalante said to George 
Saunders, when our men went to fetch it, 

"This wagon is not good enough for a trip to Pinacate! 
It is old, and dry and shaky. I don't believe it can make 
so rough a trip without breaking down, and causing those 
gentlemen much trouble. They should have a better 
wagon than this!" 

Now, it seemed to us that no statement could have 
been more fair than that; and when we heard of it — at 
the end of the trip — it made us think. 



THE SONOYTA OASIS 95 

And this brings me to tlie very important business of 
getting into Mexico with an outfit such as ours, and 
getting out again, without the payment of a really large 
sum in customs duties. Be it known that, like ourselves, 
the people of Mexico believe in high tariffs, and the de- 
velopment of home resources. Had we been obliged to 
pay duty on everything in our outfit that really was duti- 
able, the demnition total would have run up to perhaps 
^500 — and we would not have made that exploration! 
But the Mexican Government always has been liberal in 
its treatment of scientific expeditions, such as ours really 
was, and more than once has admitted outfits duty free. 

Long before November, Dr. MacDougal made a for- 
mal application to the proper department of the govern- 
ment at the City of Mexico, for permission to enter 
Sonora and return again, with all our horses, wagons, arms^ 
implements and necessary suppUes, without the payment 
of duty. This request was duly endorsed by our govern- 
ment. 

After the usual necessary correspondence, the Mexican 
Minister of Fomento, whose Department possibly corre- 
sponds to our Interior Department, resolved to grant the 
necessary permission. After an expenditure of about ^40 
in telegrams, the matter was arranged with Mr. Arturo 
Elias, the Mexican Consul at Tucson, who acted for the 
Mexican Collector of Customs at Nogales. 

In order to insure our admission at Sonoyta without 
let or hindrance of any kind, a detachment of the Guarda 
Armais Fiscal, headed by Teniente (Lieutenant) Jesus 
Medina, was sent along the boundary from Nogales (120 



96 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

miles of tedious and wearisome riding) to receive us in 
state at Sonoyta. 

* We found El Teniente and his escort of half a dozen 
men awaiting our arrival, having reached Sonoyta a day 
in advance of us. The Lieutenant was a highly inter- 
esting personage. The heat and the winds of the deserts, 
over which he has for all his life been eternally riding, have 
tanned and weather-beaten his countenance until his com- 
plexion is now very dark. He is now about fifty years of 
age, and therefore still in his prime. His home is at 
Nogales, and his line of duty stretches along the Inter- 
national Boundary for 200 miles. 

Of course Teniente Medina had in his possession full 
instructions regarding our expedition. By the time we 
had outspanned and made camp, he appeared, walking 
across the bare fields from the group of houses on Main 
Street, accompanied by his staff. He greeted us most 
cordially, and without any unnecessary loss of time Senor 
Medina and Dr. MacDougal sat down to compare docu- 
ments and make our entry an accomplished official fact. 
All went well until in the comparison of schedules of our 
outfit they reached the item of wagons; and then it was 
found that through some mischievous inadvertence both 
our wagons had been entirely omitted from the list fur- 
nished El Teniente by the Mexican Customs Officials in 
Nogales! 

Here was an annoying situation, for which no one 
present was in the least to blame. Lieutenant Medina 
was greatly disturbed. 

*'It is perfectly plain,'* he said with great fervour, 



THE SONOYTA OASIS 97 

"that my government desires that your expedition shall 
be admitted and facilitated; and of course you need your 
wagons in order to proceed. But my authority is found 
only in this official list of what is to be admitted free of 
duty! I dare not assume the responsibility of exceeding 
my instructions, much as I would like to do so." 

It was plainly evident that Teniente Medina was both 
annoyed and distressed. There was no opportunity to 
arrange the matter quietly and informally between Dr. 
MacDougal and himself; for all the while half a dozen 
men of two nationalities had been idly but respectfully 
looking on, and listening to every word. In the presence 
of so many gossipy witnesses, there was really nothing for 
the Lieutenant to do but to uphold the dignity and regu- 
larity of his office by adhering to the letter of his written 
instructions; which he did with many protestations of 
annoyance and regret. 

To have paid duty on our two wagons would have 
cost us about ;^ioo; and the annoyance of it would have 
cost three times as much more. Finally, after a con- 
ference with Mr. Milton, Dr. MacDougal made this 
proposal: 

** Teniente Medina, this situation is the fault of 
neither of us. We must overcome it the best way we can. 
Senor Milton has from your government a permit for the 
use of one wagon on your side of the line. With your 
permission, we might use our large wagon under that 
authorization. For the other, we will hire a wagon here, 
of Senor Escalante, and at once return our second wagon 
to the American side of the boundary, to be held there 



98 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

awaiting our return. Does that arrangement meet your 
approval ? " 

" Perfectly, perfectly, Doctor. It will be a great relief 
to me to see the matter so easily arranged.'* 

And thus, at a total cost of only ^9 in American money, 
for wagon hire, plus some wear and tear to our nerves on 
account of that very shaky wagon, the situation was saved. 
Whereupon our midday meal being just then served with 
the best that our outfit afforded, El Teniente was invited 
to lunch with us. He accepted, with the utmost cordiality, 
and we all sociably sat down upon the ground around our 
canvas table-cloth and dined sumptuously. 

To our surprise — and also our gratification — Lieu- 
tenant Medina positively declined to inspect our outfit 
otherwise than as it appeared on paper. We expected 
that, as a matter of course, he would wish to go through the 
formality of examining our belongings, and checking off 
the articles enumerated in the official list; but he would 
not consider it for a moment. And for a man who already 
had ridden over 120 miles for the purpose of formally 
entering our outfit according to an official programme, we 
thought his attitude rather handsome, and we heartily 
commend his example to our countrymen. He even 
offered to accompany us to Pinacate, with his escort, if 
thereby he and they could render us any service; but of 
course we assured him that was unnecessary. 

The most interesting man in Sonoyta, or for that matter 
for a hundred miles around, was Mr. Jefferson Davis 
Milton, U. S. Inspector of Immigration, of whom we saw 
much. By the invitation of Dr. MacDougal, Mr. Milton 



THE SONOYTA OASIS 99 

had procured thirty days' leave of absence in order to 
accompany us, as our guest, from Sonoyta to Pinacate and 
back, for the pleasures of the exploration. It should be 
stated here that Mr. Milton's official duty is to patrol the 
International Boundary between the Colorado River and 
Nogales, "or as much thereof as may be necessary," in 
order to beat back any waves of interdicted immigration 
that may roll up from the south. He is, of course, specially 
aimed at the Chinese who occasionally seek to enter our 
very exclusive territory by way of Mexico — as if those 
industrious and peaceable people are undesirable in com- 
parison with the Sicilian cutthroats who annually and 
freely pour into New York to engage in the business of 
blackmailing and murdering respectable Italians, without 
limit. 

Mr. Milton is a man of large size, commanding pres- 
ence, cheerful disposition and restless energy. In camp 
and on the trail his good humour is almost constant, and 
I enjoyed his company very much. Our friend "Jeff" is 
a man of many adventures — ^with a possibility of more to 
come. As express messenger in a country of train robbers, 
and in other capacities also, he has seen some stirring times. 
In a famous battle with train-robbers who attempted 
to clean out a Wells-Fargo Express car that was being 
guarded by Mr. Milton, he received a 45-calibre rifle ball 
diagonally through his left arm, which cut out a three-inch 
section from the middle of the humerus, forever. That 
arm is of course distinctly shorter than its mate, and 
although in active service, its strength has been seriously 
impaired. 



100 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

In the course of our rides in company over the deserts 
and lava, and our talks across the camp-fire, Jeff told us 
a number of thrilling tales of his adventures. Once I 
said to him, 

*' Mr. Milton, how many times have you been shot at ? " 

"That's more than I could tell you, sir, to save my 
life," he ansv^ered. "You see, I haven't always known 
just how many times the other fellows fired!" 

"And how many times have you been hit?" 

"Oh, five or six times, I guess." 

By a curious coincidence. Professor W. P. Blake, of 
the University at Tucson, who came out to see us off, 
was on the very train which those express robbers held 
up; and it was upon the mattress furnished by him from 
his bed-roll that our friend Jeff — "the messenger with his 
arm shot off" — was made half-way comfortable in the 
assaulted baggage car as the train ran on to El Paso. 

Mr. Milton is a keen sportsman, and also was as much 
interested as ourselves in solving the mystery of Pinacate. 
When we reached Sonoyta he was ready to join us, which 
he did, together with his friend George Saunders, of 
Philadelphia, two horses, and two pointer dogs named 
Rex and Rowdy. Saunders proved to be a very agreeable 
and also helpful addition to our party, and he soon won 
the respect and friendship of all the members of the 
expedition. 

Naturally, Mr. Milton was exceedingly helpful in 
Sonoyta— as well as everywhere else — in assembling the 
additional horses, horse-feed, wagon and other things 
that were necessary for the final half of our journey. 



'9%^^ 





THE SOXOYTA OASIS 



lOI 



At the best, however, this took a little time, and it was 
decided that we would spend one extra day in camp in 
the Oasis. Dr. MacDougal needed to botanize in that 
\icinit}-, and take photographs of a number of imponant 
plants and trees,, while Mr. PhiUips and I greatly desired 
to go on a little hunt for peccaries in the Cubabi ]\Ioun- 
tains, about eight miles south-east of Sono}-ta. 

And there being no objeciion, it was so ordered. 



CHAPTER IX 

A SMALL DEER HUNT TO THE CUBABI MOUNTAINS 

Cubabi Peak — Coyote and Skunk — Rain in the Desert — Disagreeable 
Trait in Mexican Rural Guides — A Fertile Mountain Valley — ■ 
Enter Coues White-Tailed Deer — The Repression of Charlie — 
Death of a Doe — Its Size and Food Supply — A Downpour and 
Darkness on the Desert — Mr, Sykes Comes In. 

On the ninth day of November, while various horses 
and other outfit features were being assembled, and the 
Chief went off on a botanic-photographic diversion, Mr. 
Phillips and I went hunting, ad interim, to the Cubabi 
Mountains. That tall range loomed up so near at hand, 
and looked so game-infested, that nothing less than a try- 
out ever would have satisfied us. The rough peaks and 
ridges looked eminently fit for sheep, but Charlie Foster 
assured us that "boregos" were not there. 

From the first moment that he viewed it, Mr. Godfrey 
Sykes had yearned to carry his aneroid and plane-table 
to the top of the highest peak of Cubabi; for he believed 
the mountain to be not nearly so high as certain over- 
liberal geographers had set forth. On some maps it is 
actually put down as 9,457 feet. 

It was resolved that Charlie should pilot all three of 
us to the range, and that Mr. Sykes would then go on 
alone to climb the peak, while the rest of us looked for 
peccaries and deer. 



A SMALL DEER HUNT 103 

We rode seven or eight miles through a flourishing 
desert jungle, and finally reached a likely arroyo that came 
down by a short run from the backbone of the range. 
Mr. Sykes gladly abandoned the rest of us to our own 
devices, and rode on, conquering and to conquer; and 
with profound thankfulness that we were not compelled 
to climb old Cubabi merely to oblige a sceptical aneroid, 
we tied our horses to the mesquites and began to look for 
game. 

The first thing I discovered was that Mr. Phillips and 
Charlie had quietly moseyed off together, and I was left 
alone. This so piqued my pride of conquest that I im- 
mediately climbed to the top of the highest ridge of those 
near me, and found the remains of a large skunk that had 
very recently been killed and eaten by a coyote. 

The coyote surely is an ornery beast. I know of only 
one in America who is more so, and he is dead. That 
was the railroad laborer down in Virginia who last year 
shot a turkey-buzzard, cooked it and ate it all alone, and 
was killed by another I — that is, by another man, who 
objected to his selfishness in dining on buzzard all alone 
and in camera. 

That skunk once had been a bushy-tailed, truculent 
pirate of the species named Mephitis macrura; and what 
think you his coyote Nemesis had left of him ? Abso- 
lutely nothing but his tail and his jaws! Apparently he 
knew the paramount importance of dentition as a means 
to an end in scientific identification, and he thoughtfully 
left the teeth intact. 

This tragic incident proves once more that even among 



104 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

animals there is no accounting for the differences between 
tastes. Now, we all know that even in New York there 
are people who — but why pursue a subject so painful ? 

While searching the landscape o'er from the top of 
my ridge it began to rain — in the desert! As soon as I 
could recover from the surprise of it, I hastily searched out 
an overhanging ledge of rock on the lee side of the moun- 
tain, and in this niche I crouched to keep dry. No 
rabbit nor pack-rat came creeping in to join me and 
waltzed on my shoes; no deer sauntered by at short 
range; nothing at all happened. And there are men who 
under such circumstances always attract a lot of animals. 

The rain penned me there among those cold, bare 
granite rocks for nearly an hour, so it seemed, and I saw 
no living thing of the animal world. But for the rain 
pattering on the rocks and glancing off the knees of my 
knickerbockers, everything was very, very silent up there, 
and the living world mighty far away. No wonder bad 
men often give themselves up to be tried, sociably, and 
even hanged among their fellows, rather than live on in 
solitude in mountain or forest. The wild life is all right — 
when not taken in too large doses, nor under too strong 
compulsion. 

When the rain ceased I hunted all through the likely 
spots near me, saw nothing, and finally returned to the 
horses — just five minutes ahead of my companions. They, 
too, had found nothing; so we mounted and rode on about 
three miles farther. 

At last we came to a fine arroyo, which came a long 
distance down, out of a mountain valley. The breadth 



A SMALL DEER HUNT 105 

of it and its fine grasses spoke well of it as a resort for 
large game; so we quickly dismounted and prepared to 
search the place diligently. 

On that occasion it was Mr. Phillips who wandered 
off alone, and left Charlie Foster and me to our own 
devices. On finding myself alone with a rural Mexican 
guide, it was then borne in upon me with extra force that 
of all earthly guides for big game the armed Mexican of 
the country is positively the worst. It is not because they 
are poor hunters, or bad stalkers; for they are very good 
both at finding game and getting up to it. The trouble 
is that, in the presence of big game, the rifle-carrying 
Mexican guide loses all control of himself, and at once 
opens fire, regardless of his duty to the sportsman. 

Naturally, no man in his senses travels 3,000 miles 
to see a hired Mexican kill game. Dr. MacDougal has 
had experiences on the Peninsula that would have justified 
Mexicanicide; all of which was fresh in my mind as I 
marched beside my companion up that jungly arroyo. 
During the trip down from Tucson, Charlie had been 
very plainly admonished that there must be no wholesale 
killing of game, and that no one must ever shoot a female 
animal except to preserve it entire as a museum specimen, 
to be mounted. 

That was a lovely valley, a hundred yards wide of 
level ground with a dry-sand stream-bed meandering 
through it, steep mountains close by on the right, and a 
high, rough ridge of bare rock on the left. The vegetation 
was as usual in such places — trees of mesquite, palo verde 
and ironwood, a few desert willows fringing the arroyo 



io6 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

and a scattering of cacti of three species. There was also 
an abundance of good bunch-grass. Both for peccaries 
and deer, the spot was ideal. 

Cautiously we stalked forward, for half a mile or so, 
and presently found deer-tracks. A dozen times I 
thought, 

" If we don't find peccaries here, we wont find them 
anywhere!'* 

Like the spring of a trap, up jumped two gray-coated 
animals, minus horns, and after three or four leaps stopped 
short to look at us. Distance, seventy-five yards. They 
were small deer, presumably females. One was in good 
view, the other hidden. 

And, quick as a trigger, Charlie Foster lost his head — 
if ever he had one for orthodox guiding. He threw his 
rifle to his shoulder and, standing squarely in front of 
me, took aim to fire. 

''Charlie!'* I said, very sternly, ''stop that! Dont 
you dare to fire!** 

Greatly startled, he lowered his rifle; but goodness! 
how he looked at that deer! His face was a study of the 
human predatory animal held in leash, and plumb rebel- 
lious. 

*'Shut! shut quick!** he begged. 

"It's a doe! We don't want it!" 

"Shut! Shut! Shut quick! We want the mit!" 
(meat). 

Then I thought of my duty to the Carnegie Museum — 
for a mountable pair of deer skins — took quick aim, and 
fired. 



A SMALL DEER HUNT 107 

The deer sprang forward, made half a dozen bounds, 
and fell dead; shot squarely through the heart and lungs. 
At the same time a large fawn bounded into view on the 
other side of the arroyo and halted for ten seconds. And 
*' Whang!" went Charlie, squarely at it; but he never 
touched a hair of it. It bounded wildly up the ridge, 
crossed it in flying leaps and disappeared. 

Charlie Foster rushed forward to the dead deer. 
Without exaggeration, he was fairly overjoyed by the kill, 
the accession of meat — and success. It was a full-grown 
female Coues White-Tailed Deer— also called Sonora 
White-Tail,* a small tropical offshoot of our robust north- 
ern White-Tailed Deer. 

My first feeling was of regret at having killed a doe, 
but later on this vanished; for no other deer were seen on 
the entire trip! It was well that I followed my old rule 
in collecting. 

But CharHe had no qualms of conscience. Like Alan 
Breck after the fight in the round-house of the brig 
Covenant, no sooner did he lay hands on the dead game 
than he began energetically to hum a Mexican tune; 
and all unconsciously he kept it up, burring melodiously 
between his Hps until the deer was placed on his horse. 
It was really very amusing. 

I wished him to bring his horse to where the deer lay; 
but no! he would carry the animal half a mile down to 
where the horses were tied. It was a pleasure to him to 
do it! I then saw that he had been almost bursting with 
anxiety to take back game of some sort. Had I calmly 

*Odocoileus couesi. 



io8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

permitted that deer to escape without firing at it, I surely 
would have lost his respect, forever, and a day after. 

On reaching the horses, and my game scales, our 
first act was to weigh the little creature; and its gross 
weight was 71 J pounds, for a fully adult female. Its 
shoulder height was 28 J inches; length of head and body 
47^, tail vertebrae 7J; neck circumference at throat 10, 
and a girth of body 28| inches. Its stomach was well 
filled, chiefly with the fruit of the barrel cactus (Echino- 




Texas White-Tailed Deer Coues White-Tailed Deer 

(Odocoileus virginianus) (O. couesi) 

cactus), supplemented by leaves of the mesquite, desert 
willow {Chilopsis) and bunch-grass. 

I lamented the fact that our deer was not a full-grown 
and fully-antlered male; and then Charlie Foster, who 
always strove to please, save when killable game was in 
sight, walked oflF up the arroyo. In five minutes he re- 
turned, bearing on his head an absurdly small pair of 
fairly-fresh antlers of Coues Deer from a buck slain by 
him the previous year. In order that their miniature size 
may be appreciated, they are figured herewith, in com- 
parison with an average pair of antlers of northern white- 
tailed deer. The pair of couesi measure 13 inches in 



A SMALL DEER HUNT 109 

length on outer curve, their widest outside spread is 14I 
inches, circumference above the burr 3J inches and the 
points are 4 + 4. This species ranges from southern 
Arizona south-eastwardly through the state of Sonora, 
Mexico, to Tampico. It is about the size of the Florida 
deer (0. osceola), and the Yucatan deer (O. toltecus). 
Charlie Foster said he had found deer every time he had 
visited the valley in which we made our kill. 

Mr. Phillips joined us as we were placing the deer 
behind Charlie's saddle, and we started home without 
delay. At the same time it began to rain and grow dark, 
and the more we hastened the harder it rained. Dark- 
ness overtook us about four miles from Sonoyta, with the 
trail full of water, and the rills beginning to run. We 
were thoroughly soaked; and our shoes were so com- 
pletely waterlogged that they overflowed at the top. It 
is not joyous to ride four miles through darkness with one's 
shoes full of cold water, all the way splashing through 
puddles, and wondering why on earth Sonoyta does not 
appear. The low hills about us were useless as land- 
marks for the settlement, for they all looked precisely 
alike. For myself, I was right thankful for Charlie and 
the steady onward splash and squash of his horse's feet, 
for without him I am sure we could not have found Sonoyta 
through that murk. 

After a ride that seemed interminable we reached 
Sonoyta, and our camp. To our joy, we found that the 
tent was up, and everything snug. Our arrival was 
greeted with lively satisfaction, until the deer was put in 
evidence; and then the surprise, and delight, and ^^ con- 



no CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

gratulations'' that followed over that absurd little jack- 
rabbit of a deer made me feel as if I had been caught 
stealing a sheep. But, in the language of every modest 
recipient of an Ovation, I accepted that welcome, *' not as 
being offered to me personally, but rather to the Great 
Interests that I have the Honor to represent on this 
Occasion" — the first fresh meat in camp. 

But what of the Geographer ? Mr. Sykes was not in; 
and he was wanted, very much. Judging his bump of 
"locality" by my own, I rashly predicted that he would 
not find Sonoyta that night. Dr. MacDougal alone 
thought differently; and, sure enough, about nine o'clock, 
which was three hours after darkness set in, in came the 
Geographer, waterlogged but serene. He had climbed 
to the top of Cubabi's highest peak, found it to be 4,300 
feet high, and his only complaint against the weather was 
because the rain-clouds had enveloped him so completely 
while on the summit that he could record no observations 
on his plane-table. 

To be rain-soaked on our first day in el desierto of 
Sonora, and thoroughly chilled, also, was like being 
prostrated by heat in Greenland; and wondering what next 
would happen to us unexpectedly, we thankfully devoured 
a shameless meal, and crept into the snug comforts of our 
sleeping-bags. 



CHAPTER X 

DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 

The Start Westward— Bad Mules— "The Devil's Road"— A Ruined 
Hacienda — A Lonesome Little Cemetery — We Meet Mr. Daniels — 
The Sonoyta River in Flood — ^The Water-Storage Cactus — A Rattle- 
snake in Camp — ^Quitovaquita, on the Boundary — Rube Daniel's 
Passion for Pow^der — An Accident — A Japanese Incident — Pinacate 
from Afar — Another Rattlesnake in Camp. 

At least one of us had expected that westward of the 
blessed little Sonoyta Oasis we would find the river valley 
quite narrow, and lying between two ranges of steep 
mountains. But once more our expectations required 
revision. The Sonoyta Valley is several miles wide, and 
its general surface is not nearly so level as the floor-like 
valleys west of Tucson. On the south, the nearest moun- 
tains — after the Cubabi Range — are a goodish bit away, 
but on the north the Quitovaquita and other mountains 
are really quite near. Pinacate Peak, our goal, is not 
visible from the lower levels of Sonoyta, being "hull 
down" on the south-western horizon, but from the hill 
north of the oasis, on which stands Monument No. i68, 
its rounded summit may be picked out from the maze of 
peaks to the south-west. 

On November loth, we overhauled and re-formed our 
outfit for the westward journey to Pinacate. Dr. Mac- 
Dougal had hired four saddle horses, and a pair of mules 



112 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

as leaders for the Mexican wagon. The former were all 
right, but, lawyer-like, the mules "objected" to nearly 
everything that the opposing counsel did, or tried to do. 
When we overruled them, they always noted an exception. 
Sometimes they did it by jumping out of their harness, and 
sometimes by trying to climb into the wagon beside the 
driver. 

At first one of those mules was a great stickler for 
ceremony. He insisted upon being hobbled and blind- 
folded whenever his harness was put on, and the teamsters 
were very patient in letting him have his way. In bridling 
that animal Jess Jenkins was an artist, no less. First he 
would speak gently to the erring one; then, holding the 
halter in his right hand, close up, his left hand would slide 
slowly and gently up the skull of that mule until it reached 
the level of the eye. As softly as a lover does it, that 
mesmeric hand would glide westward until it reached the 
upper lid of the eye, and, in most affectionate fashion, the 
orbicular muscle was deftly gathered between the thumb 
and finger. 

And then, what a pinch was there, my countrymen! 
The pain was so great and so exquisite that it would have 
diverted a rocking-horse; and before the wild mule could 
realize what was being done, and why, the bridle would 
be in its place, and the harness on. Strange to say, how- 
ever, that mule never seemed to remember from one 
day to the next the intimate meaning of that seductive 
hand. 

At first those mules always kicked on the hitching of 
the traces; but at last, after many wordy arguments, they 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 113 

conceded the necessity of hooking up in order to get on in 
the world. 

There were long days when either Jess Jenkins or 
George Saunders tramped on foot beside those wild mules, 
prod in hand and fire in eye, to encourage them, while 
the other sat on the high seat, driving and enjoying life — 
not much. 

Mr. Milton owns two dogs, a pointer and a pointer- 
mixed. There being no one with whom to leave them, it 
was absolutely necessary that they should accompany the 
expedition; which they did; but no efforts of mine ever 
can do justice to their talents. 

Dr. MacDougal also considered the advisability of 
taking along a Papago Indian as a guide, but finally de- 
cided not to do so. Of this decision we were heartily 
glad, particularly when we learned, two months later, that 
two New York sportsmen, in the Lower California 
Peninsula, were practically set on foot by their rascally 
Indians, who treacherously took away all their horses and 
left them at the most remote point of their journey. 

The trail that leads westward from Sonoyta eventually 
enters the Tule Desert, about thirty miles along the inter- 
national boundary, and there it becomes the famous 
Camino del Diablo, or *' Devil's Road." It leads to Yuma, 
on the Colorado River, at the mouth of the Gila; and I 
suppose that it derives its name from the fact that between 
three hundred and four hundred wayfarers have died on it, 
of thirst, famine and fatigue. It is said to be the most 
terrible desert trail to be found in all the south-western 
arid region; though that would appear to be a large order. 



114 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

The trouble is that the water-holes are very few, very far 
apart and much given to failing entirely in extra-dry 
seasons. The water in the Tinajas Altas tanks is at all 
times very hard to get, and in places the trail is very sandy 
and very rough. On the Tule Desert, however, we found 
it fine. 

About six miles west of Sonoyta are the remains of what 
once was another oasis — a very small one, to be sure, but 
once very flourishing. It is called Santo Domingo; and 
Sonoyta never in its life had such buildings as those now 
rapidly going to rack and ruin. Once it was a Mexican 
hacienda, for fair, and even six years ago it was an im- 
posing centre of life and activity. On a fine knoll, the 
trail becomes a street. On one side stands a huge adobe 
building 125 feet square, with the usual open court, or 
patio, in the centre. The half score or more of rooms into 
which the building was divided once housed many in- 
dustries — a flour-mill, a soap factory, a blacksmith-shop, 
storerooms of many kinds, men's quarters and I know not 
what all else. Near by are extensive corrals for stock, 
still intact, and occasionally used. 

On the other side of the street was a solid block of 
six houses, each twenty by thirty feet, five of which had 
been occupied by the chief people of the place, as dwellings. 
One had been The Store; and the abandoned furniture 
and fixtures spoke silently of vanished business. A build- 
ing thirty by fifty feet, that stood a little farther along the 
street, had kalsomined walls and a coloured dado, betoken- 
ing special importance. I was told by a native that it 
once was the custom-house. But, as usual with unoc- 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 115 

cupied adobe houses, the roof had already fallen in, and 
ruin was in progress. 

North of the buildings were level fields that once 
had been irrigated from the reservoir made by the waters 
of the Sonoyta River. There had been rows of fig-trees 
along the canals, but they had died of thirst; and so had 
the grape-vines that now extend their skeleton arms in 
mute protest over what once was a flourishing vine- 
yard. 

An important relic of the past was found adjoining 
the corrals on the west. It was an abandoned ore-crush- 
ing plant, of the Mexican kind known as an arastra. The 
machinery was made in Brooklyn; and think of the toil 
it was to bring it to Santo Domingo! The ore for the in- 
dustry was brought from the Cypriano Mountains, twenty 
miles away toward the south. 

We were told that recently, when Santo Domingo was 
most flourishing, Sonoyta was for several years utterly 
abandoned, because of the destruction of the water-works 
that irrigated the oasis. Now, the tables are turned once 
more; but four years hence the traveller may be surprised 
by seeing Santo Domingo once more humming with 
life. 

Dr. MacDougal and I climbed up to a pathetic little 
cemetery that occupies a rocky hilltop a short distance 
south-eastward of the hacienda. It looked awfully lonely 
and forgotten. There were seven graves, four of which 
were provided with rudely made wooden crosses, but all 
of them, save one, had fallen down. The most imposing 
tomb bore a hardwood cross, which had been carved with 



1 16 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

loving care and much labour. The cross-arm bore this 
inscription, in letters carved with clumsy tools: 



AqUI YACEN LOS RESTOS DE EmILIA C. DE CaRREVAS 

R P 

Qui fayecio el 13 di Julio de 1877. La edad 50 anos. 



(Here lies in the grave, at rest, Emilia C. de Carrevas, who died on 
the 13th of July, 1877. Aged 50 years.) 

The upright bore another inscription, evidently de- 
signed to express a Spanish equivalent for our " In loving 
memory"; but the student of pure Castilian who en- 
deavours to look up *'yacen" and ** fayecio" in a dictionary 
will have trouble. In this case both words have been 
spelled literally as they sound, with y instead of II. 

A fallen cross bore a woman's baptismal name which 
so strongly appealed to my sentimental inner self that I 
was at some pains to set it up again, in tribute to a Lady 
whom I know. It said: 



AqUI LLACEN RESTOS DE 
JOSEFA OrTE 



(Here lies in the grave, at rest, Josephine Orte.) 

All the graves save one had been securely sealed 
with adobe, and were well preserved. The exception 
was the grave of a child, which had merely been filled 
full of stones that were none too small. A vandal pack- 
rat had invaded the resting-place, carried up all the loose 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 117 

earth, and many of the bones of the poor little skeleton, 
all of which lay scattered about as the Imp of the Desert 
had left them. To even matters, however, Neotoma had 
collected a lot of joints of a small-jointed choya, and 
stuffed them into the crevices. And now Science steps 
in. Dr. MacDougal has just written me the information 
that those cactus joints are from a choya that is a new 
species, described and christened quite recently as Opuntia 
Kunzei. 

From the Hill of the Lonesome Cemetery, Dr. Mac- 
Dougal made a very fine photograph of Santo Domingo, 
and the vast bush-covered plain beyond, which is respect- 
fully submitted. 

A mile westward of Santo Domingo we met three 
horsemen, all Americans, from Quitovaquita. One of 
them was introduced to us by our Mr. Milton as "Mr. 
Daniels," and after we had exchanged a few platitudes 
in the usual way, we reined up to ride on. It was then 
that Mr. Milton said: 

"Well, come on. Rube, and camp with us. You 
know, gentlemen, Mr. Daniels is going with us." 

Blank surprise sat on all four of us. Finally some one 
managed to say, faintly, 

"Oh! Is he?" 

"Yes," said Jeff, briskly, "he knows the country 
around Pinacate, and I've invited him to go with us, as 
my guest!'* 

This was a surprise. Up to that moment we had 
thought that our good friend Milton was our guest; and 
the addition of his friend Saunders had been duly proposed 



ii8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

in advance, and approved. We had nothing against Mr. 
Daniels, but to have him and his two horses thus dropped 
from the clouds into our midst was an unhappy sort of an 
introduction. However, Dr. MacDougal was the last man 
in the world who would discredit our good friend Jeff, or 
put him to embarrassment. As soon as he could orient 
his thoughts, he made Mr. Daniels welcome to our party, 
and we all rode on westward together. 

A ride of another mile brought us to the crossing of 
the Sonoyta River; and then we found that the rains of the 
previous day, and also those of the afternoon — between 
Sonoyta and Santa Domingo, when three distinct rain- 
storms fell simultaneously north and south of us — had 
made good. Glory be! We found the Sonoyta in flood, 
filling its wide bed from bank to bank! The sandy- 
brown current rushed along in great waves, a hundred and 
fifty feet wide, weltering and murmuring nervously as it 
ran, as if in the greatest haste to get on. My wish to see 
a desert stream-bed running full of water had been quickly 
granted, and I gazed in silent wonder at the novel sight — 
a flooded river in a desert! 

Being in advance of my companions, it was my duty 
to ascertain whether the loaded wagons could get across 
that afternoon or not. I rode out into the boiling caldron 
of storm-water — dreading quicksands, and prepared for 
eventualities. Very soon I found that in mid-stream the 
water was at least four feet deep, and very swift. This 
meant that for loaded wagons, and a pair of wild mules for 
leaders, it would not be wise to attempt to cross that 
afternoon. The afternoon being well advanced — for our 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 119 

start from Sonoyta was rather late — we camped near the 
crossing. 

Mr. Mlhon advised taking the whole outfit back to 
Santo Domingo— two miles — in order to camp there and 
procure hay for the horses; but Dr. MacDougal refused 
to take the back track. Mr. Milton insisted, and finally 
became quite cross over the decision, but very manfully 
apologized to the Doctor the following day. So there we 
camped; and all save four of our cavalcade of seventeen 
horses were taken back to Santo Domingo for the night, 
and there fed on hay. 

The flood in the Sonoyta subsided very rapidly. As 
soon as possible after our camp site was selected, I went 
down to get a picture of the torrent. To my surprise I 
found that the water had lowered about a foot, and a wide 
sand-bank had been exposed, most conveniently for my 
purpose. Strange to say, my picture proved to be another 
accident on the right side ; and there being no rival, I show 
it with outrageous pride. 

It is strange that a stream-bed which is not more than 
thirty feet wide at Sonoyta should in eight miles widen 
to a bona-fide width of one hundred and fifty feet between 
banks; but even thus does the ephemeral little Sonoyta, the 
lower half of which no one had up to that time dared to 
put down on a map. As a matter of fact, in dry times not 
one drop of water runs beyond Santo Domingo. The 
rule of the river is that it will "go on forever" — until it 
totally disappears in its own thirsty sands. 

The morning of our camp at the crossing is marked in 
our minds by two incidents. 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 119 

start from Sonoyta was rather late — we camped near the 
crossing. 

Mr. Mihon advised taking the whole outfit back to 
Santo Domingo — two miles — in order to camp there and 
procure hay for the horses; but Dr. MacDougal refused 
to take the back track. Mr. Milton insisted, and finally 
became quite cross over the decision, but very manfully 
apologized to the Doctor the following day. So there we 
camped; and all save four of our cavalcade of seventeen 
horses were taken back to Santo Domingo for the night, 
and there fed on hay. 

The flood in the Sonoyta subsided very rapidly. As 
soon as possible after our camp site was selected, I went 
down to get a picture of the torrent. To my surprise I 
found that the water had lowered about a foot, and a wide 
sand-bank had been exposed, most conveniently for my 
purpose. Strange to say, my picture proved to be another 
accident on the right side ; and there being no rival, I show 
it with outrageous pride. 

It is strange that a stream-bed which is not more than 
thirty feet wide at Sonoyta should in eight miles widen 
to a bona-fide width of one hundred and fifty feet between 
banks; but even thus does the ephemeral little Sonoyta, the 
lower half of which no one had up to that time dared to 
put down on a map. As a matter of fact, in dry times not 
one drop of water runs beyond Santo Domingo. The 
rule of the river is that it will "go on forever" — until it 
totally disappears in its own thirsty sands. 

The morning of our camp at the crossing is marked in 
our minds by two incidents. 



120 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Dr. MacDougal gave us a most interesting demonstra- 
tion of the manner in which some desert plants store up 
water for use in dry seasons. A dozen yards from our 
camp-fire, under the arms of a spreading mesquite tree, 
he began to dig in the sand to reach the bottom of a small 
whip-like cactus. Above ground the stem of the plant 
was only five-eighths of an inch in diameter and fourteen 
inches long. From this modest and even insignificant 
'bove-ground stem, very feebly provided with spines, a 
long, string-like root ran straight down into the sand for 
twelve inches. At that depth it developed a huge beet- 
like bulb thirteen inches long, fifteen and three-quarter 
inches in circumference on its equator, and weighing pre- 
cisely three pounds! The bulb was of beet-like consist- 
ency, and very watery. No doubt the small stem above 
ground could have lived on the water stored in that root 
for two or three years, as a hibernating bear lives on his 
own surplus fat. 

For convenience we called that plant the water- 
storage cactus; and Dr. MacDougal said that its Latin 
name is Cereus greggii. 

As if to discount the above, no sooner had we photo- 
graphed that specimen than some one discovered, snugly 
ensconced in the mesquite-brush fence about twenty feet 
from my bed, a cold and quiet rattlesnake. The chilly air 
of the night had rendered the reptile uncomfortable, and 
disinclined to move. Without ceremony he was hauled 
forth from his concealment and called upon to pose before 
Mr. PhiUips' camera. The head snake-man of the 
party picked up the rattler on a stick, carried it into an 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 121 

open space and deposited it upon a bed. At first his 
snakeship became nervous, and endeavoured to escape; 
but on being brought back three or four times and re- 
deposited on the bed, it concluded that, after all, we vv^ere 
not wholly a bad lot. Then it assumed a defensive atti- 
tude, ceased rattling and calmly awaited our pleasure. 

Naturally, we surrounded the bed on which stood the 
deadly serpent, but our presence did not disturb Crotalus 
in the least. Mr. Phillips photographed it several times 
at very close range, and the snake really looked pleasant, 
for a rattler. It did not coil at all! It raised the upper 
third of its body high up, maintained at all times a queer 
kink in its neck, for striking purposes, but remained per- 
fectly quiet. 

In order to furnish a proper background for the snaky 
subject, Mr. Milton lay down behind it, close up to the 
edge of the bed; but nothing untoward happened. At 
last, when the final film had been expended, the question 
of disposal arose. In pursuance of the PhilHpsian princi- 
ple, that nothing photographed alive shall be killed after- 
ward, I carried the rattler back to his brush fence, dropped 
him into its midst and bade him go in peace. We left the 
spot sublimely complacent over having lived up to the 
Principle, but two or three weeks later we found that we 
were victims of misplaced confidence. In an unguarded 
moment Jess Jenkins gave to the press a gauzy story to 
the efi^ect that after we had turned that rattler loose, "one 
of the horses stepped upon it, and killed it." 

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Phillips, "and that was the first 
rattlesnake that a 'horse' ever killed with a club!" 



122 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Twelve miles from Sonoyta we came to Quitovaquita, 
and but for its glorious spring of clear and cold water 
pouring in a two-inch stream out of a rocky hole in the 
foot of a granite mountain, the memory of the place would 
not be pleasant. In the suburbs lay the remains of two 
dead coyotes that had been poisoned. One was a big, 
handsome red fellow, with a fine brush — far handsomer 
than any other that we saw on the trip. It was a pity that 
he was too far gone to find his way into a museum. Near 
him lay a fellow victim that was smaller, all gray with no 
red, and not nearly so handsome. The latter matched all 
the others that we saw, alive and dead. 

Although Quitovaquita was entirely quiet and inof- 
fensive, its atmosphere was depressing. It is one of the 
spots in which I would not like to die, and would hate to 
live. Of its eight houses, only four were inhabited, and 
the others were crumbling to the inevitable ruin that in 
every vacant adobe house follows swiftly upon the heels 
of the departed tenant. The waters of the spring have 
made a pond, but it looks stagnant and unwholesome. 
There are trees growing about the place, and a sprinkling 
of brush along the brook of the spring; but the settlement 
is not inviting. Perhaps this is because the little hamlet 
is a hybrid — neither Mexican nor American. The spring 
is American, by about a hundred feet, but the boundary 
runs right through the heart of the city. The spring 
irrigates one field, which is duly fenced against cattle and 
burros, but the waters of the Sonoyta River are not utilized. 

Strange to say, we found that two Americans were 
living in that lonesome, stagnant, out-of-the-way place. 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 123 

One was our newest friend and companion-in-arms, Mr. 
Reuben Daniels, and the other was a Mr. Childs, who 
owns a very good cattle-ranch, a fine well and a steam 
pump on the trail to Gila Bend, ten miles above the Ajo 
mines. Being curious to know why any American should 
settle there, I said to Daniels one day when there was a 
vacant interval, 

"Won't you tell me what turn of fortune led you to 
settle in a place so little and lonesome as Quitovaquita?' 

At first Mr. Daniels was rather surprised by this un- 
expected question; but after a keen glance and a moment's 
pause, in which he evidently decided that it was not put 
through any unfriendly intent, he replied very frankly, 

"Oh, I'm not staying down here because I'm stuck 
on the country. Like everybody else, I'm looking for an 
opening, somewhere. But, after all, there are much worse 
places for a man to live in than little Quito and Sonoyta." 

That was all that he cared to say on the subject, for 
he was at all times a man of few words. 

As we halted briefly at Quitovaquita, Daniels put his 
bed-roll and war-sack upon one of the wagons, and led 
away with him his second horse. We found that previous 
to our visit he had been literally starving for cartridges, 
both for his rifle and his six-shooter. Of the large package 
of cartridges brought down by Dr. MacDougal for Mr. 
Milton, nearly one-half were turned over to " Rube," who 
straightway began to revel in them. 

When firing was heard ahead of the main body, it 
turned out to be "Rube Daniels, shooting at a jack-rabbit." 
Later on, when a man was seen to fling himself off his 



124 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

horse, kneel, and fire two or three times, it was " Daniels, 
killing a coyote." An hour later, another fusillade re- 
solved itself into another conjunction of Daniels and jack- 
rabbit. No one tried to keep track of his killings. Al- 
though he killed a-plenty, the interesting point was that 
he was simply overpowered by his desire to shoot things! 
I saw him kill one coyote and two jacks, and I know not 
how much more he slew. He had the pastime all to him- 
self, for no one else cared to fire a shot, save when the 
Doctor took in a western red-tailed hawk. To us it 
seemed rather odd that a cowboy would spend time and 
good cartridges — a hundred miles from a railroad — in 
shooting such dreadfully cheap game as jack-rabbits. 

Later on, this absorbing passion for shooting led to a 
deplorable incident. 

Westward of Quitovaquita the trail describes a big 
loop southward, chiefly for the laudable purpose of keeping 
as close as possible to the Sonoyta River. It was while 
we were crossing a high and bare bit of land overlooking 
the bed of the river, there fully 500 feet wide, that our 
Mexican wagon scored its first break-down. The iron 
thimble came bodily out of the wooden hub ; and when it 
had done so, we saw that the wound was an old one, only 
superficially healed, and festering underneath with wooden 
wedges, strips of gunny-sack and goodness knows what 
not. The yawning cavern inside that hub seemed abso- 
lutely hopeless; but Mr. Sykes went to work with unruffled 
brow to doctor it up. 

Near the beginning of the trouble, a lone man in black 
clothes ''might have been seen," and in fact was seen, 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 125 

toilsomely wading across the river and the sand from the 
opposite side. He came from a thick patch of brush, and 
laid a course for our spot so straight it was evident that 
he wished to board us. At last Mr. Milton exclaimed, 

"Why, it's one of those Japs!^^ 

And this obliges me to turn back the pages of history, 
for one brief moment. 

As soon as we reached Sonoyta, we heard, with keen 
interest, of five Japanese who had recently appeared in the 
Sonoyta valley, coming from the south, desirous— so they 
said — of reaching the mouth of the Colorado River! 
They knew no English to speak of, were very ill fitted out 
for travel of any kind, and seemed utterly unacquainted 
with the deserts. They proposed to walk along el Camino 
del Diablo — the Devil's Road — from Sonoyta to the Colo- 
rado River, without any outfit whatever, without arms, 
and with only two canteens for five men! 

Against all advice, the quintet finally started west- 
ward, in due time passed Quitovaquita and launched out 
upon the Tule Desert. Then Mr. Milton posted after 
them, to see that they did not enter the United States. 
He passed them fifteen miles out; and they were tired, 
hungry, heated and knew nothing about the *'next 
water." He gave them a canteen full of water, advised 
them to turn back immediately before getting into serious 
trouble, and rode on ten miles farther. As he returned, 
he found that three of the party had left the trail and 
gone off into the desert at random, while the other two 
had turned back, as he advised. The latter he presently 
overtook and passed. 



126 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

A day later the two back-trackers reached Quito- 
vaquita, where they were hospitably fed, tobaccoed and 
rested by Childs and Daniels. Two days before our ar- 
rival at Quito this errant pair had again started westward, 
for a second trial of el Camino del Diablo. Being strictly 
uncommunicative, save when they wished for succor of 
some kind, no one was able to gain even a hint of their 
reasons for wishing to reach the Colorado River below 
Yuma. By some it was suspected that they wished to 
slip into the United States somewhere near Yuma; but 
their method seemed insane. 

The little brown man in black wearily plodded across 
the shallow river, slowly climbed the steep cut bank and 
stood in our midst. He might have sat for a picture of 
Up-Against-It. Instead of being emaciated, his face had 
an unhealthy, bloated appearance. He looked like a man 
ready to drop with weariness, loss of sleep, hunger, bad 
food and exposure. (Excuse me even from sleeping out 
in that country in November with less than two good 
blankets!) His wholly unsuitable black clothes and city 
shoes were badly torn and worn, and under the circum- 
stances he was very foolish to wade the river without tak- 
ing off his shoes and keeping them dry. 

To cap the climax of his miseries, the poor little fellow 
could not speak a dozen words of English! He could say 
"tobacco" and "matches"; but they are English no 
longer. They are Universal. The smokers dug up 
tobacco for him, and the non-smokers furnished him with 
a good supply of matches, for all of which he repeatedly 
said "thank you," by touching his forehead with his hand. 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 127 

He was given food of some sort ; I do not remember pre- 
cisely what it was; and then, with great earnestness, he 
began to talk in the sign language. Presently we made 
out that his partner was over in the thicket across the 
river, nearly a mile away, sick abed and unable to travel. 

This tale of trouble he chose to address rather particu- 
larly to me, but at first his pantomime, intended to de- 
scribe the symptoms of his sick partner in misery, was 
more than I could interpret. By dint of effort, however, 
we at last understood each other. 

I brought out my medicine-box, produced what I 
beheved to be the proper medicine, divided it into doses 
and explained by signs how often they should be taken. 
The wanderer took the stuff, most eagerly, and then, to my 
consternation, he fell upon his knees in front of me and 
touched his forehead to the sand, not once only, but three 
times, in real Japanese-courtier fashion! As sure as fate, 
this man had not been many days in North America! 
The acclimatized Japanese kneels to no one on this side 
of the Pacific; and any Jap servant will discharge his or 
her contracted employer, literally, **at the drop of a hat." 

The wanderer stood for Mr. Phillips to get a picture 
of him, and that ended the interview. He turned away, 
climbed down the bank and drew a bee-line for the distant 
thicket where lay the sick friend whom he would not 
abandon. The last we saw of him, he was slowly wading 
across the shallows, back to more discomfort and hard- 
ships, and possibly worse — a human enigma from a very 
far-off shore. Heartily wishing him safely back in Japan 
— or in a good California vineyard, we cared not which — 



1 

128 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

we replaced our mended wheel and quickly resumed our 
march toward Pinacate. 

Three weeks later, as we were leaving Sonoyta for 
home, we heard that the sick Japanese had recovered, that 
both of them had returned to Sonoyta and were then some- 
where in the settlement. We hope, for their sakes, that 
they did not again try to go over the Devil's Road on foot, 
and guideless. There are men to whom I would be pleased 
to recommend that trip, on foot, and in hot weather; but 
those Japanese are not of them. What became of the 
other three Japanese ? I do not know. They simply 
disappeared in the Tule Desert, and of them I can learn 
nothing more. 

At this point the reader may well ask. Why were those 
five Japanese so strenuously endeavouring to break into the 
United States via the Devil's Road ? A suggestion that 
they were merely bent upon reaching a field of quiet, 
honest and inoffensive labour would be, in my opinion, 
unadulterated nonsense. An honest workingman chooses 
the line of least resistance. They could have slipped 
across the border and up to the Ajo Mines in precisely two 
days ; for even though our Inspector of Immigration is a 
husky and vigilant man, he is only one man, and the 
boundary is as many miles long as you choose to make it. 

It is my belief that those five innocent-seeming Japan- 
ese represented a deliberate purpose on the part of the 
Japanese Government. I think their purpose was to 
ascertain by trial whether the Camino del Diablo is a 
practicable route for men on foot who are poorly equipped! 
I think those men were trying to demonstrate that it is 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 129 

possible for the little brown men of Japan to travel from 
Altar to Sonoyta and Yuma with practically no *' outfit" 
whatever; and if it were susceptible of proof, I would 
willingly wager that a full report of that attempt is at this 
moment in the hands of the Japanese bureau of intelli- 
gence at Tokio. 

Just why the Japanese should wish or need to know 
the possibilities of getting into the United States over the 
Devil's Road, is a question for a military critic. All I 
know about the Japanese mind is that "it is sly, sir, 
devihsh sly"; and it works while we sleep. Possibly there 
exists in Tokio an academic desire to know whether a 
fleet could find good lodging in the lower reaches of the 
Colorado River; but had that been the only question to 
be reported upon, our dilapidated Japanese friend would 
naturally — and easily — have sought the information by a 
comfortable pasear down from Yuma. 

Mr. Rube Daniels told me that in Quitovaquita the 
members of the Japanese party had begged food and 
tobacco, and that a generous quantity was bestowed upon 
them in the belief that they were quite destitute. But, 
like Oliver Twist, they wanted "some more," especially 
flour and bacon; and when it was denied them, they 
promptly dug up gold coin from their inner pockets and 
offered to pay for what they required! 

Agua Dulce (Water Sweet) is a name, a practicable 
corral, an abandoned adobe house on a nice, clean knoll 
nineteen miles from Sonoyta, and nothing more. It is on 
a high bit of river-bank, and from it there is a long view 
down the wide river-bed. The twin peaks of the Pinacate 



130 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Mountains loom up about west by south, shrouded in a 
blue haze. For three miles westward the green arboreal 
desert continues, then there slowly rises a wide stretch of 
dark ground, as if the space from the green desert up to 
the tip-top of Pinacate Peak were under the shadow of a 
thick cloud. Instinctively you look at the sun, but you 
see that the sky is quite cloudless everywhere, and by these 
tokens you know that the eastward slope of the mountain 
is perpetually dark! 

This is something entirely new, for this trip. The 
Pinacate Mountains appear to be a lofty pyramid with an 
immensely wide base. At long range there are only two 
peaks that are individualized. Later on we found not 
merely a mountain peak, but a range of lava mountains, 
fully ten miles long, extending almost due north and 
south. As it appears in profile it looks as if the slope to 
the summit is so gradual that a horse might be ridden to 
the top; and from the north this is true. But we had 
absolutely no means of knowing, within several miles, the 
distance between ourselves and the highest peak, nor of 
judging either its height or its steepness. 

It had been said that on account of our wagons we 
would find it advisable to swing around the base of the 
mountains on the level Tule Desert, and attack them 
from the north — a regrettable circumstance to four men 
who wished to charge straight at the enemy, and solve 
its mysteries in quick time. There was a great amount 
of talk, and map-drawing in the sand by Charlie Foster, 
but the sum of it all was that no one seemed to know in 
the very least what was before us, or how to get anywhere 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 131 

save by sheer pathfinding. Charlie Foster and Mr. 
Daniels did know of the existence of a "tank" (water- 
hole) somewhere to the north-westward of the mountain, 
and it seemed to be vitally necessary to our exploration 
that we should find it. 

We camped at Agua Dulce, and cached in the aban- 
doned house a bale of alfalfa hay and a sack of barley for 
the return trip. It was one of the wisest moves of the 
trip; for on our return journey it was, to our hungry and 
jaded horses, worth much more than its weight in gold. 
For general convenience, our horses — now numbering 
seventeen head, and rapidly eating their own heads off — 
were tied in the corral and fed on hay that we had brought 
from Sonoyta. And this led to another incident. 

Just as I was about to induct myself sinuously into 
my sleeping-bag, there was a sudden commotion below. 
Rube Daniels came rushing up from the corral, almost 
breathless. 

"Will you let me take your lantern, please! There's 
a big rattlesnake in the corral, and it's about to bite one 
of the horses!" 

At once all hands hurried down — Daniels leading the 
way with my lantern, while I carried the Doctor's shot- 
gun. Through the darkness we heard horses snorting 
hysterically, and voices saying, "There it is! Look out! 
Look out!" and "Take that horse away, quick!" 

An angry rattlesnake mixed up in black darkness with 
three men and seventeen horses is not a thing to inspire 
serenity. 

The serpent had taken refuge in the fastness of the 



132 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

brush fence that surrounded the corral. The mass of 
stems, piled horizontally between two lines of upright 
posts, was about eighteen inches thick, and it was by no 
means a bad fortress for a harried snake. By the light 
of my friend Stonebridge's very excellent folding lantern — 
really the greatest of all lanterns for a camper — the 
rattling rattler was quickly located. He was then about 
three feet from the nose of a horse that was tied to the 
corral fence. He lay lengthwise in the pile, wide awake 
and angry, and was evidently ready either for fight or 
flight. 

Mr. Daniels snatched from me the shot-gun, took 
careful aim and shot the rattler half in two at the middle, 
completely wrecking its spine. 

Another flash of the lantern showed that the snake 
was quite done for; and some one said cheerfully, "It's 
dead!" 

The lantern was withdrawn. 

"Look out, fellers!" cried Daniels, excitedly. 

Drawing his 45-caliber six-shooter he fired five shots, 
as fast as he could pull trigger, into the black hole in the 
fence, opposite the snake. Naturally we expected to find 
the rattler in a state of pulp, but a moment later, when we 
dragged it out, we found that not one of the revolver bullets 
had touched it. 

That night the coyotes gathered around us in force, 
and it seemed to some of us as if our dogs spent half the 
night in barking at them and chasing them through our 
camp. 

In the first rush, the dogs ran over the bed of Rube 




_M ^ 



> m 



^ ■£ 



DOWN THE SONOYTA TO THE LAVA 133 

Daniels, and, quick as a trigger, he sat up, with his six- 
shooter in his hand and glared about him. 

"What's the matter. Rube ?" said Jeff Milton. "Are 
you dreaming?'* 

"I guess so," said Rube, and once more he composed 
himself for slumber. 

More than once a wild and eager chase led across the 
bed of a sleeper, causing audible discontent within; for 
no man likes to be turned into hunting territory for large 
game. As the row went on, the hot language of seven men 
rose on the chilly air, and was lost in the vaulted ether 
overhead. 

During the night our slumbers were frequently dis- 
turbed by some large wild animals that we had not counted 
upon; and what think you, perspiring Reader, that they 
were ? Wild burros — donkeys — no more, no less. The 
desert about us contained dozens of them, all of them 
thoroughly man-shy, self-supporting and firm believers 
in the doctrine of the survival of the fittest. They find 
enough grass and green browse to live upon, and the 
Sonoyta River waters them. When the stream goes dry, 
they seek the moist spots, and with their hoofs dig holes 
in the sand for water. Mr. Phillips once found in the 
river-bed a large hole that had been dug by wild burros. 
On his return trip to Sonoyta he saw about twenty of those 
animals, and found that by imitating their cry he could 
ride up within one hundred yards of them. 

In travelling through the Sonoyta Valley, we saw a 
number of those strange derelicts, but none that I saw 
would suffer us to approach them nearer than about four 



134 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

hundred yards. Of course it is to be understood that 
they are merely domestic burros that have escaped and 
become wild, or else have been born of runaway parents. 

That night at Agua Dulce they hung around our camp 
for hours, as if longing to return to the civilization they 
had voluntarily abandoned. Their hearts were very sad 
about something, for whenever there was a lull in the 
coyote war, a voice from the chaparral would rise through 
the lonesome darkness, and a heart-breaking ''Haw-he\ 
h-a-w-he\ h-a-w-h.t\" would go wailing and screeching 
over the desert like the cry of a lost soul. And then about 
every half hour we heard galloping hoofs going "ke-lop, 
ke-/o/j, ke-lop"; and each time we wondered whether the 
dogs would stampede those sad-hearted wild beasts 
through our camp, and bring those hoofs upon us. 

Nothing untoward happened, however; and between 
rattlesnakes, coyotes, dogs and wild burros the night 
pleasantly wore away. 



CHAPTER XI 

AN EVENTFUL DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 

The Finest Organ-Pipes and a Red-Tailed Hawk — The Alkali Plain — 
The Ocatilla's Flower — ^View of Pinacate — A Much-perforated 
Plain — 'The First Volcano Crater — ^A Circus with Prong-Horned 
Antelopes — My Locoed Coyote — The Malpais Plain — A Bridge to 
Cross a Ditch — Lost Wagons and Benighted Men — A Bivouac 
in the Desert — Rescued in Spite of Ourselves — A Long Night 
Ride. 

When we breakfasted at Agua Dulce, nearly an hour 
before sunrise on the eleventh of November, no one fore- 
saw the length or the breadth of the day that then began 
to unroll before us. Mr. Milton said to us: 

"After we pass the Playa Salada, Charlie Foster 
can pilot the wagons toward the water-hole where 
we will camp to-night, and the rest of us can have a 
hunt for antelope. If you will come with me, I will 
show you a fine volcano; and then we will join the 
wagons." 

That was our busy day. Looking back upon it, I do 
not see how anything more could have been crowded into 
it without bursting it. It was not, however, a day of blood- 
shed, even though Rube Daniels did open the ball by 
killing a coyote very soon after we pulled out from Agua 

Dulce. Knowing that we had more interesting things 

135 



136 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

ahead, I resolutely declined to be hindered by the skinning 
of that little gray beast, and so 

"We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
But left him alone in his glory." 

Half way between Agua Dulce and the Salt Plain 
(where the trail swings abruptly north-westward), we came 
to a high hill of broken granite, naked as any other stone- 
pile, but bearing high up on its eastward face certain 
botanical specimens that gave me a distinct thrill. They 
were organ-pipe cacti, and two of them were twenty feet 
high! In comparison with those giants, all others that 
I had seen were small. The prize specimen upreared 
twenty-two stems, each one from six to seven inches in 
diameter, and one of the tallest bore a ten-foot branch. 
But there was not a moment to be spared that morning in 
photographing plants, and all I could do was to register 
a solemn vow that I would take them on the return trip. 

Incidentally, there perched upon the tip-top of one of 
the tallest stems of the prize pitaya a fine large hawk, 
whose existence in that country was a thing to note. 

I said to Dr. MacDougal, 

" I'm sorry our shot-gun is in the wagon. We need to 
know about that hawk." 

*' I'll try a shot at him with my Winchester. Even if I 
hit him, you can at least identify him." 

Dismounting, he secured the best position available, 
at a distance of about a hundred yards, and fired up the 
side of the mountain. Down fell the hawk, with the top 
of its head shot off in the most workmanlike manner 




From a photograph by the author 



The Finest Organ-Pipe Cactus 

Page 216. 



I 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 137 

imaginable. It proved to be Western Red-Tailed Hawk,* 
with an empt}- stomach. 

The Playa Salada — literally "salt}- beach" — is what 
would be called in Montana an alkali flat. It is at the 
big bend of the trail, three miles below Agua Dulce, and it 
lies four or five feet above the bed of the river. The plain 
is a mile long by half a mile in width — level, destitute of 
grass and white with alkali. Ever}-where near this point 
the river water — ^when there is any — is so strongly im- 
pregnated with alkaU that it is a poor beverage for a 
thirsty human. 

At the lower end of the Playa Salada the course of 
the Sonoyta River is partially revealed. It runs south of 
Pinacate, in a course that is practically south- westw^ard. 
Later on, we found that it comes to an untimely end against 
the sand-hills which form an impassable barrier along the 
Gulf of California, between the lava countr}^ and the 
shore. There is very Httle vegetation on the northern 
bank of the river, but on the south there is a wide belt of 
mesquite jungle. 

On November nth there was water in the river as far 
down as we could see, but when we returned that way, on 
the 25th, just fifteen days after the flood, the water ended 
at the alkali flat. The terminus was a little string of 
pools, in the largest of which were about two hundred 
shiny, silver-sided minnows all unconscious of the fate that 
awaited them — death on dix land. Dr. MacDougal pho- 
tographed the spot where the last drop of the Sonoyta 
sank into the sand and disappeared. 

*Buteo horealis caJurus. 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 137 

imaginable. It proved to be Western Red-Tailed Hawk,* 
with an empty stomach. 

The Playa Salada — literally "salty beach" — is what 
would be called in Montana an alkali flat. It is at the 
big bend of the trail, three miles below Agua Dulce, and it 
lies four or five feet above the bed of the river. The plain 
is a mile long by half a mile in width — level, destitute of 
grass and white with alkali. Everywhere near this point 
the river water — when there is any — is so strongly im- 
pregnated with alkali that it is a poor beverage for a 
thirsty human. 

At the lower end of the Playa Salada the course of 
the Sonoyta River is partially revealed. It runs south of 
Pinacate, in a course that is practically south-westward. 
Later on, we found that it comes to an untimely end against 
the sand-hills which form an impassable barrier along the 
Gulf of California, between the lava country and the 
shore. There is very little vegetation on the northern 
bank of the river, but on the south there is a wide belt of 
mesquite jungle. 

On November nth there was water in the river as far 
down as we could see, but when we returned that way, on 
the 25th, just fifteen days after the flood, the water ended 
at the alkali flat. The terminus was a little string of 
pools, in the largest of which were about two hundred 
shiny, silver-sided minnows all unconscious of the fate that 
awaited them — death on dry land. Dr. MacDougal pho- 
tographed the spot where the last drop of the Sonoyta 
sank into the sand and disappeared. 

*Buteo borealis calurus. 



138 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

As previously arranged, we parted company with the 
wagons at the point where the trail caroms against a string 
of granite hills that form a very effective barrier running 
north and south. While the teamsters unhitched and 
drove their teams to the river to water them, and Charlie 
Foster took charge as pilot for the day, the mounted mem- 
bers rode straight forward into the rough country. 

For an hour we wound to and fro through the granite 
hills, studying the while their scanty crop of bisnaga 
cactus, stunted ocatilla, palo verde and mesquite. It was 
in here that we found for the first time an ocatilla still in 
bloom, and we examined it with keen interest. 

The flowers are pale crimson, tubular, about an inch 
long, and each throat is filled with a sheaf of red stamens. 
About one hundred and twenty-five of these flowers are 
arranged close together on a stalk, forming a raceme about 
nine inches long. The collection as a whole, as borne on 
the tip of a green ocatilla wand, is a thing of beauty. How 
handsome this strange bush must be in May, when it is 
in full bloom, and many of its stems are thus ornamented! 
At last we bore away north-westward, and presently 
reached the last of the granite ridges. Before us lay the 
dead volcano we were seeking, while far beyond it, from 
the centre of five hundred square miles of black lava, rose 
grim old Pinacate. Forthwith Mr. Phillips and I climbed 
the ridge to photograph all that we saw. 

The view from the elevation we presently attained was 
very striking. Our ridge was simply a rough stone-pile 
five hundred feet long and three hundred feet high. In 
front of it, south-westward, lay a perfectly level stretch of 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 139 

creosote bushes, as even on top as if trimmed to a fixed 
height. It did not look so very wide, but when we came 
to ride across it, it seemed interminable. Beyond it lay 
a belt of smooth bare ground, and from the farther side of 
that rose a low, broad hill which seemed to have a flattened 
top. That was "Cerro Colorado," so Mr. Milton said, 
otherwise "Red Hill." 

We were very anxious to get Pinacate from that point, 
for it was our first real view of the Mystery. But alas! 
It was shrouded in that awful blue haze that sometimes 
delights a painter, but nearly always bursts a photogra- 
pher's heart. On all save one Pinacate appears only as a 
mound of fog. Mr. Phillips's best picture is reproduced 
herewith. 

With our binoculars — magnifying instead of reducing 
— the case was different. In them Pinacate did loom up 
grandly — a big, black mound of small, blunt peaks and 
ridges massed together, surrounding and finally building 
up the two culminating central peaks. The distance to 
the top of Pinacate's highest peak was twenty-one miles, 
and its course was due south-west. The blue haze was so 
impenetrable that we could not tell whether a wagon can 
be driven to the top of the highest peak, or the mountains 
are impassable for a led horse. The only thing absolutely 
certain about it was that in a few days we would stand 
upon that highest peak and photograph back toward the 
Cerro Colorado, as far as a lens could carry. 

Descending from our labours, we started across the 
creosote plain. In pursuit of our companions, with our 
eyes fixed on the volcano, we rode, and rode, until the 



140 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

plain seemed to be turning forward under us. What I 
had estimated at three miles turned out to be precisely 
seven. The whole plain was honey-combed with burrows 
of the kangaroo rat (Dipodomys), nearly always made 
around the clumps of creosote bushes. For about a mile 
I kept a close watch upon them, and at no time were there 
fewer than five burrow mounds in sight at the same instant. 
But not one living specimen did we see. Those little 
creatures are strictly nocturnal, and no one ever sees one 
afoot save at night. Mr. J. Alden Loring says that, in all 
his wanderings as a collector through the haunts of these 
creatures, he never saw but one alive and uncaught. 

At last we did reach the edge of that light-coloured 
plain; and it proved to be a naked and sterile zone of gray 
volcanic ashes, half a mile wide and completely encircling 
the base of what once was a gorgeous volcano. It was as 
smooth as a floor, and entirely free from bits of lava and 
stone. Close down upon its surface there grew a thin 
sprinkling of delicate little plants, almost lichen-like in 
their growth, known to botanists as the Indian wheat, 
or desert plantain {Plantago aristata^ or perhaps P. ig- 
nota). 

That curious plant is as white as if covered with hoar- 
frost, and lends much extra whiteness to the appearance 
of the ashy zone. The prong-horned antelope loves to 
feed upon this delicate white carpet, and of this Mr. 
Milton was fully aware. It was here that he hoped to 
find a herd. 

Seeing no antelope, we rode across the zone of ashes 
and straight up the side of the volcano. When we drew 




.t: -^ 



S u 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 141 

rein upon the rim, a gorgeous scene lay before us and the 
adjectives began to fly Hke hail. 

"Magnificent!" "Grand!" "Vesuvius in the desert!" 

At our feet there yawned a vast circular pit, vv^alled in 
by perpendicular cliffs of red lava rock. It was half a 
mile in diameter, and about two hundred feet deep on the 
low side where we were. The rim of the crater was sharp, 
highest on the south side (opposite us), and lowest on the 
west, where a notch had been blown out — all precisely 
like Vesuvius, as it was in 1876, and for several years there- 
after. The rim on which we stood consisted of volcanic 
sand that by heat had been fused into sohd sandstone; 
and deep furrows ran down it, westward, to the point 
where the bottom of the notch joined the zone of ashes. 

Mr. Milton and I left our horses and advanced to the 
innermost edge of the crater to examine more closely the 
vegetation growing scantily on the level floor far below. 
We noted a thin sprinkling of plants and bushes, and one 
or two tiny giant cacti. 

While we were admiring the beautiful Indian-red tone 
of the walls, Mr. Milton took one more look far westward. 

"Look yonder!" he exclaimed, "There they come! 
Yonder's a bunch of antelope — coming straight this way. 
Look in the green bushes, just beyond the edge of the bare 
ground!" 

Sure enough, six prong-horns were in sight, and heading 
straight toward us. Up to that time, Doctor MacDougal 
never had hunted that species, and it had previously been 
agreed, between the rest of us, that the first chance at 
antelope should, without let or hindrance, be his. 



142 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

"There's your game, Doctor!" 

Quickly he stripped off his spurs and belt-gun and 
made ready for a stalk; and Rube Daniels took charge of 
him, willy-nilly, being himself as crazy as ever to shoot 
something. They crouched away down the rim, behind 
ridges and bushes, to the bottom. From that they worked 
out into the ash zone itself, by means of a long, strag- 
gling line of mesquite bushes that seemed to have 
been grown there for that occasion. Mr. Phillips fol- 
lowed them at a safe distance, to see the sport by naked 
eye, but the rest of us stood pat where we were, holding 
the horses. 

The antelopes jauntily walked out upon the ash field 
and began to feed. As they nibbled they slowly walked 
straight toward us. The original distance of half a mile 
narrowed very slowly, and we saw that it was to be a wait- 
ing game, with a doubtful finish. After a long and rather 
tiresome interval the herd had reached within about three 
hundred yards of the hunters behind the ultimate bush 
and their rifles rang out. One of the bucks was seen to 
fall and struggle violently upon the ground. 

"They've got one! One's down!" said we. 

The other five pranced wildly about, undecided what 
to do. 

We saw Dr. MacDougal rise and start to run forward, 
then return to his bush. 

"Why don't he go to itP" said Jeff Milton, impatiently. 
More firing, shot after shot, in quick succession. Then 
the unwounded five antelopes divined the source of the 
alarm, headed due south, and in single file scudded away 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 143 

like the wind. To our horror the wounded buck then got 
upon his feet and ran after the herd, on three legs. 

"Bang! bangetty-bang!" went the two rifles, cutting 
the dust far beyond the fleeing quarry; but never another 
hit. In quick time all the antelopes were out of range; 
and then Daniels sprang out and like a wild man raced 
across the plain on foot, after them! Finally, Dr. Mac- 
Dougal followed him. A moment later the game plunged 
into a thick growth of green bushes far to the south, and 
disappeared. 

This is what happened behind the last green bush: 

With his first shot — at very long range — Dr. Mac- 
Dougal knocked down his buck, with a broken hind leg. 
Naturally, his impulse was to "go to it" and make sure of 
it; but when he sprang up and started, Daniels called to 
him and said, 

"Don't go! Don't run out! Stay here and keep on 
shooting, and I'll get one!" 

So the Doctor returned to cover, kept on firing at the 
running antelopes five hundred yards away; and no one 
got one. 

We, the watchers, collected the horses and spurs, and 
as quickly as possible rode down and across the plain on 
the trail of the two hunters. After riding a mile through 
the chaparral, we came to the edge of a rugged lava plateau 
about five feet above the desert level, and there Mr. 
Phillips and I halted while Mr. Sykes and Milton rode on 
after the runaways, leading their two horses. A little 
later Mr. Phillips wandered off on foot to a mile-distant 
ridge, leaving me to make notes and look after three 



144 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

horses. And then a weird thing happened ; part of which 
I can prove by means of affidavits. 

It was mid-day, and the sun had warmed the world up 
to about 90 degrees. As I stood beside my horse, drinking 
from my canteen, with the other horses grouped near 
us, a coyote calmly walked across a bare opening, in plain 
view, and only twenty-one paces away! My rifle was 
actually under my hand and I could have blown the animal 
to bits; but somehow he seemed a little out of sorts, and 
"off colour," physically. He must have said "King's 
excuse!" when he started my way; for he seemed to care 
no more for me, or for the horses, than if we had been 
blocks of wood. 

While I was wondering about the state of mind of that 
erratic coyote, back he paced again, returning over his 
own trail to the spot whence he came. No promenader 
ever walked more leisurely than he, and with the outrageous 
contempt of a drum-major he completely ignored man 
and horses, save for one contemptuous glance. Leisurely 
he climbed up the rough edge of the lava-field, forty paces 
from where I stood, walked off to a mesquite bush about 
seventy paces distant from me, and calmly lay down in its 
shade. Afterward I paced all these distances to make 
sure of my facts. 

That locoed coyote lay with his head in my direction, 
and looked at me! I spoke to him, civilly enough; but he 
made no sign. Then I called, "Hello there!" Although 
he opened his mouth to pant, he said nothing. I whistled, 
sang to him, yelled at him, and finally reviled him; but 
as truly as I live, he moved not, nor showed the slightest 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 145 

alarm. He simply went on a-lying under the bush as if 
there were not a man nor a Savage rifle within a hundred 
miles of him. 

Finding that shouting did not disturb him, I raised 
my voice to its loudest, and called Mr. Phillips, hoping that 
he might hear me and come and photograph the beast. 
If I yelled once at the highest pitch of my voice I did so a 
dozen or fifteen times; and that locoed coyote never batted 
an eye. Unfortunately my partner was too far away to 
hear me. 

The coyote remained under that bush for nearly half 
an hour, and might be there even now but for the return of 
the whole cavalcade. I tried to stave off the advance until 
Mr. Phillips could get in his work with his camera, but at 
last the crowd got on the nerves of Canis latrans, and 
while the exposures of him that Mr. Phillips finally made 
as he was stealing away do show the animal, they were not 
wholly successful. 

Such were the symptoms of that queer coyote case. 
Now, what about the diagnosis ? 

That was the third time that coyotes had put up funny 
jobs on the undersigned. Two of them concerned coyotes 
that were very wild and wary when I was armed, but in- 
stantly became tame, and even confidential, as soon as I 
took the trail without a shooting-iron! Here, however, 
was an animal that dared to trust his vitals in my hands 
when I was fully armed, on the war-path and supposedly 
eager for coyote blood. Now, I ask, how did that crazy 
beast know that I was a hundred times more deeply inter- 
ested in his mind than in his pelt ? I cannot answer that; 



146 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

but I do know that he took big chances when he picked a 
man out of that bloodthirsty crowd as the one before 
whom he could safely flaunt himself, and take the risk of 
having his head shot off. 

But all this is idle persiflage, and is not to be taken 
seriously. It only reflects the joking theories of our 
party on that occasion. To come down to the realities of 
life, I believe two things: i. That that particular coyote 
was sick, and cared nothing for trifling interruptions. 
2. That he never before had seen, heard or heard of a 
human being, and knew not what it was to fear one. In 
that country no one traps coyotes, very few are poisoned 
and very few are shot; but for all that, most of the others 
that we saw on that trip had conscientious scruples against 
standing still when within two hundred yards of a rifle. 

Half an hour after the sick coyote vanished on the 
lava, the stage was set with a totally different scene. We 
mounted and as briskly as possible rode northward to 
reach the spot where we expected to meet the wagons. 
Quite near the edge of the zone of ashes we saw what 
seemed to be a level plain of bare, hard ground, three 
miles by two, and lying directly in our course. As ground 
to travel over, it looked inviting, and blithely we laid our 
course to bisect it by a new trail. Such a place is locally 
called "malpais," or "bad ground"; but lava fields also 
are designated by that very common term. 

When fairly launched upon that barren plain, we 
found that it consisted of what once was very fine volcanic 
mud, which flowed down from the gap in the rim of the 
Cerro Colorado. It was also a flood basin, with a 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 147 

vengeance, often being under water. It looked like the 
bed of a dry lake, and at that time its surface was cracked 
open in every direction to an unknown depth. The earth 
was very dry and loose, and the network of wide cracks 
was so annoying to our horses that our progress was slow. 

In places the surface of this queer plain was covered 
with a sprinkling of chunks of brown lava, varying in size 
from a tea-cup to a coal-scuttle. It looked as if large 
masses of red-hot lava had exploded in mid-air and rained 
down upon the plain only last week. 

Looking ahead we saw two lines of mesquite bushes 
crossing this bare plain from west to east, and along with 
each water gleamed in a ditch-like stream. It was the 
residuum of the last flood that had covered the plain, and 
the four strangers from afar welcomed it with the ardour 
that potable water in a desert always is supposed to in- 
spire. But here we note an exception. 

"We can go around the head of this one," said Rube 
Daniels; and I wondered why we did not go straight 
across that absurd shoe-string of water. We went around 
it; but presently we came to another that extended a 
long mile or more each way, and lay squarely across our 
course. 

"Well, gentlemen," said Jeff Milton at last, "we've 
got to cross this one, somehow." 

"What's wrong with it ? Can't we ride across it, any- 
where ? " 

"No, sir! Impossible! If a man should try to ride 
across that little bit of water his horse would mire down 
in two seconds, and he couldn't get out again to save his 



148 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

life without being dragged out with ropes. We've got to 
make a bridge before we can get across!** 

I tested the mud in mid-stream. It was like thin 
mortar and bottomless. And yet that absurd little ditch 
was nowhere more than ten feet wide and two feet deep! 
Surely it was a dangerous thing, or those two hardy 
rustlers would not have ordered the building of a bridge 
for our crossing. 

Fortunately, materials were not lacking. We all fell 
to work like so many beavers, gathering big chunks of 
lava and heaving them into the mud and water, to form a 
causeway. By bending down a mesquite clump, Daniels 
and I managed to jump across the stream at a narrow 
point, and work went on from both shores, simultaneously. 
After about twenty minutes' brisk work the top of the 
causeway was above the water, and although it was fear- 
fully rough, our horses seemed to understand thoroughly 
what it meant. One by one we took them by their lariats 
and led them across, scrambling, stumbling, mud and 
water flying; but in short order we were all upon the right 
side with everything to the good. 

Milton and Daniels said that we were to meet the 
wagons and camp close beside two granite mountains that 
rose very abruptly from the desert four or five miles to the 
north; and thither we rode. As we neared them the floor 
of the desert changed to loose sand, and the nearer we came 
to the mountains the worse became the sand. 

*'The wagons were to come to this gap between these 
two mountains; but they're not here, nor anywhere in 
sight. I hope they haven't broken down again!" 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 149 

Thus spoke Mr. Milton, cautiously; and we silently 
wondered how the wagons ever could get in there, and 
where on earth we would find water, even if they should. 
It seemed like the driest spot in Sonora. 

It was then within about half an hour of sunset and 
our anxiety grew apace. Bidding the four of us wait 
where we were, Milton and Daniels rode off northward as 
fast as possible, to climb upon a lava ridge before sunset 
and try to locate the wagons. 

" If we shoot, that will mean that we have found the 
wagons and that you are to come to us," said Mr. Milton; 
to which we agreed. 

They quickly disappeared; and after an interval we 
heard a shot. 

"Ah! they've found the wagons!" And we joyously 
rode forward thinking of camps and comforts of several 
kinds. Having been in the saddle nearly continuously 
since sunrise, and without luncheon, we were quite ready 
both to rest and to eat. 

After ploughing through a mile of loose sand under the 
lee of those two granite mountains, we came to the edge 
of a great lava bed twenty feet high and terribly rough, 
and there we found our companions. 

"Where are the wagons?" we asked, carelessly. 

"/ don't know!" answered Milton. "We haven't 
seen hide nor hair of 'em. There's a big misunderstanding 
somewhere — or else they've broken down." 

"But you fired a signal shot." 

"That was Rube. He shot a jack-rabbit!" 

"/ forgot all about it, fellers," said Daniels, regretfully. 



I50 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

It was then that the sun set; and the question was, 
What to do ? The wagons might be two miles away, or 
they might be ten. (They were more than ten!) We 
might possibly find them in the darkness, but we could 
easily wander all night and miss them. They might have 
passed northward of us; and, if so, their trail would be 
findable, even in the dark, by going north. 

*'Well, gentlemen," said Jeff Milton resolutely, "Fve 
simply got to find those wagons; but there is no use at all 
in the rest of you going with me. You camp down here 
and make yourselves as comfortable as you can and Rube 
and I will ride out north to see if we can't cut the trail of 
the teams. If we find 'em, we'll come back to you-all." 

Thus were we, by one fell stroke, lost and benighted 
in the desert. 

They went immediately, and the Doctor, Mr. Phillips, 
Mr. Sykes and I at once selected as a camping place a spot 
where there was a little galleta grass for our tired and 
hungry horses. Very soon they were free from their 
saddles, and thankfully grazing. We dragged dry mes- 
quite stems from afar, built a good camp-fire and made 
ready to spend the night as comfortably as possible. We 
had one jack-rabbit, and straightway I dressed it with the 
utmost skill I could put forth. The puzzling thing was to 
cut the animal into four equal parts, thus making each 
forequarter as good as a ham. We had no salt, but to 
encourage my comrades, I cut all the sticks for the broiling 
act and made each portion fully ready. Each man had to 
do his own broiling, however, so that in case of any failure 
the cook to blame would be himself. 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 151 

I watched with much interest to see how the appetites 
of my companions would rally to their support in dealing 
with saltless, amateur-broiled jack-rabbit. Dr. Mac- 
Dougal and Mr. Sykes did well, but Mr. Phillips's inner 
man failed to support him as he should have done. His 
appetite broke down, and although he had a hind- 
quarter, he negotiated very little of it. Now, my appetite 
— but it is well to draw here the veil of silence. 

While I was preparing the jack-rabbit, the Doctor 
hunted up a small bisnaga cactus of the half-way edible 
kind, brought it in and carved it. We chewed the pulp 
and also tried to eat it. The water was all right, but to 
men who still were under the pamperings of an over-fed 
civilization the bisnaga was not at that time palatable 
food. For a man who is very thirsty and desperately 
hungry it would beyond doubt have been welcome food 
and drink. This was of the species known as Echino- 
cactus lecontei. 

With our saddles set up on end, and many green 
branches to serve as wind-breaks for our heads, and with 
saddle-pads and boughs on the sand to lie upon, we settled 
down in our respective places, closely packed side by side, 
and looked forward to the usual cold night. Until mid- 
night we would not be so badly off; but it was certain that 
the stinging cold hours after that would see us all crouching 
over the fire. 

We had settled down most peacefully. Our tired 
muscles had relaxed for the day, and we were dozing our 
way into slumberland when from the far-off darkness we 
heard a raucous "Yeep!" Perdition seize the ruthless 



152 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

interruption! But we loyally answered the call, and by an 
exchange of cries soon guided to our fireside Mr. Milton 
and Mr. Daniels. They insisted upon rescuing us; and 
we didn't Kke it a bit. 

*'We found the trail of the wagons! They've gone by, 
to the north of us," said Milton proudly. 

**But where are they now?" some one asked, rather 
spitefully. 

"The devil only knows. But we've got to find them 
before morning, in order to start with them when they pull 
out again, and lose no time!" 

There was nothing else to be done. We simply had 
to permit ourselves to be rescued; but we all felt that it 
would have been easier to bear the camp that we had than 
fly to another that we knew not of. 

Sadly and reluctantly we saddled our tired horses, 
stiffly climbed upon them and strung out after our two 
resolute rescuers. They first rode a long way east, then a 
long way north; and at last a voice called out cheerily 
from in front, 
^"Here it is!" 

We swung into the wagon trail, single file, and started 
on a trot. The tracks of the wheels were almost as plain 
as railroad irons. 

That was, I think, one of the longest rides in the world; 
for it seemed absolutely endless. At first we were all a 
bit cross, then indignant, and finally amused. As we 
reeled ofi^ mile after mile and hour after hour, and the pace 
settled down to a walk, because our tired horses could trot 
no more, the universal feeling was of grim and hopeless 



A DAY AT THE EDGE OF THE LAVA 153 

resignation. When I made shift to look at my watch I 
found that it was sixteen hours since breakfast and we had 
already been fourteen hours in the saddle. But, to the 
honour of our country, no man complained or "kicked" 
ever so little, even once. 

During the last hour I am sure half the members of 
the party must have slept occasionally as they rode. I 
kept myself awake by trying to invent an appliance by 
which a horseman might sleep while riding without falling 
off; but before it was completed and patented our long, 
black serpent of men, horses and dust wound off to the 
left through a lot of scrubby mesquites and our leader 
gently said to some one, 

"Hello, fellers! All asleep?" 

It was our lost wagon-camp, beside a tiny little mud- 
and-water hole, somewhere in the deadly Tule Desert, 
and tn the United States! The wagons, as well as our- 
selves, had made a long, hard pull during that day. 

As for ourselves, we had gone seventeen hours between 
meals, had been fifteen hours in the saddle and had ridden 
eleven miles since our untimely rescue. And that was 
only our third day on horseback! But such is Life on the 
trail and in camp in the far South-west. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE PANORAMA OF MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 

In the Tule Desert — Farther than Ever from Pinacate — The Corner 
of a Vast Volcanic Area — A Weird Cyclorama — Monument No. 
1 80 — A River of Verdure — Pathfinding along the Edge of the 
Lava — A Volcanic Curiosity — A Great Choya Field — The Sand 
Ridge — A Galleta Meadow — The Doctor's Garden — Fresh Moun- 
tain Sheep Tracks — The Papago Tanks, Found in the Dark — ^Mr, 
Sykes Finds a Huge Crater — Nature's Planting on the Crater 
Floor — Two Rifle Shots. 

Looking back upon it with a perspective of 3,000 
miles, I am tempted to regard MacDougal Pass as one 
of the wonderful manifestations of our trip. Hundreds 
of books of travel have been written about far less than 
was unfolded before us on that memorable twelfth of 
November and the early hours of the following day. On 
a narrow green ribbon twenty miles long there were strung 
a series of Nature jewels of the first water, terminating in 
a volcano pendant that simply fascinated us all. 

The rosy dawn of the morning after our strenuous 
diversion inspired each member of our party with new 
life and vigour. We found ourselves encamped in the 
edge of the Tule Desert, half a mile north of boundary 
monument No. 180. At sunrise the temperature was 
39° F. There was then a little water there, but a week 
later there was not one drop. Those who come after will 
do well to put down that spot as waterless. 

154 




o "o 



13 J3 o 



6 "il 





"a 


M 


3 

o 




rt 


s 




o 






M 


3 




•3 


4-. 


4<> 

o 


H 





lU 


O 




Q 


w 


-p 
§ 




o 


p 




s 




o 




H 


< 


-0 




Q 












Q 





MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 155 

We were north of Pinacate, and as far from the central 
peaks as when we left the Sonoyta! 

It was explained that we were hunting a lead by 
which we could take our wagons as far as possible toward 
the peaks before leaving them. Our only course was to 
cut and try — all around the lava field, if necessary — 
finally halt the wagons at the farthest point we could reach 
with them, and from there strike into the heart of the 
rough country by pack-train. As to water, we must carry 
as much as possible, and within thirty-six hours reach the 
rumoured tank in the lava country in order to get 
more. 

Mr. Daniels was sure that by swinging around monu- 
ment No. 1 80 as if it were a pivot, and striking south close 
along the western edge of the lava beds, we could take our 
whole outfit southward for several miles; and that is what 
we proceeded to do. There was no trail, nor sign of a 
trail; and it was said that no wagon ever had gone where 
we proposed to go. Daniels and Mexican Charlie joined 
their abilities as trail-makers, and during that day they 
both rendered splendid service. They rode ahead, chose 
the exact course for the wagons, and shoveled down the 
sharp edges of arroyas so rapidly that the teams went for- 
ward almost without a halt. 

When the teams finally got away from our camping- 
place and started on the swing southward, Mr. Sykes and 
I rode up on the lava bed to inspect monument No. 180. 
Our purpose was to introduce ourselves to the personal 
acquaintance of an iron column; but how trivial was that 
errand in comparison with the splendid cyclorama that 



156 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

encircled us! The elevation on which the monument 
stands is not great, but, like Mercutio's wound, it is 
enough. 

We found ourselves upon the extreme north-western 
corner of a vast field of lava that stretched southward and 
south-eastward for miles unknown. There were plains of 
lava that were nearly level. There were high and rugged 
pressure ridges — like those of the great arctic ice-pack — 
and there were cones and hills by the dozen, near by and 
far away — all bare, black and glowering. Far away 
toward the south rose, as usual, the great Pinacate pyra- 
mid, black and hazy as ever, but with only one peak 
visible. 

Southward along the ragged edge of the lava field ran 
a thread-like stream of delicate green verdure, a tiny river 
of fertility flowing far down from — we knew not what. 
On its western side lay a perfect medley of desert sands, 
choya gardens and steep granite mountains standing all 
ways about. North-westward along the Boundary, beyond 
the Tule Desert floor and its cheerful stand of creosote 
bushes, rose the scowling mass of the awful Tinajas Altas 
Mountains, where the water is little and bad, and many 
a poor traveller has died of thirst and heat. North 
of us, all along the horizon, ran the high and rug- 
ged Papago Mountains — saw-toothed "Sierras" for fair. 
There is a well and some mines in them somewhere, 
so 'tis said; but both may go to the de'il together for 
all o'me. 

I fear that I have a weakness; and that it is for inter- 
national boundaries and monuments. Now, I am yet 



MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 157 

young enough that it gave me a series of electric thrills to 
know that I was actually standing astride the line that 
divides two great nations, with one foot in *' America" and 
the other in Mexico. It seems awfully queer to stand at 
one moment in a far-distant foreign country, and be "at 
home" the next! It is worth while to be for a time a part 
of the hard-and-fast line on the map which for forty years 
has challenged my curiosity and excited my thirst for the 
Unknown. 

Mr. Sykes and I improved the shining hour by picking 
up specimen bits of shiny brown lava that lay precisely 
on the line, half in Mexico and half in America ; and by his 
suggestion I marked the boundary on several, as they lay. 
While I photographed the monument, Mr. Sykes got into a 
serious altercation with his fifty-foot steel tape, which soon 
required his undivided attention. The lid of it came off, 
and as usual when lids are off, the situation soon became 
fairly disreputable. No, the Geographer did not use lan- 
guage. He said, very pungently, 

"// / begin, I'll never get it to rights! If I can just 
keep still, and stick to it, I'll win out — ultimately" 

Out of respect for his grief, I said no more ; and finally 
when I was obliged to ride on, I left him sitting there on 
the lava, silently sticking to it. 

Naturally, we examined 180 with keen interest. The 
boundary exhibits seven or eight different kinds of monu- 
ments — cut stone, concrete pyramids and cast-iron pillars. 
No. 180 is a square, hollow pillar of cast iron, 8 feet 
high, II J inches square at the base by 9 inches at the 
top. At the base it is bolted very firmly to a foundation of 



158 



CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 



concrete, the top of which is two feet square. On the 
southern face it bears this inscription: 



LIMITE 

DE LA 



4 



^ 



TrETRADO DE 1853 

Restablicido 

FOR 

TrETADOS DE 

1882-1889. 



And on the eastern side it says, in plain EngHsh: 



The destruction 
or displacement of 

THIS monument is A 

misdemeanor punish- 
able BY the United 
States or Mexico. 



MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 



159 



If you sin against that monument, pray that you may 
be caught in the United States; for I am told that in 
Mexico criminals get their deserts — and possibly a little 




Monument 180 on the International Boundary. 

Looking north-westward. 

more; besides which, even a Mexican jail is something that 
no prisoner can make light of. 

MacDougal Pass begins at monument 180, where the 
river of fertihty flows into the Tule Desert. Its length is to 
be measured down to the impassable lava at MacDougal 



i6o CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Crater where a little later we left the wagons; and by this 
fiat, now recorded for the first time, it is fifteen miles long! 
Its average width, as nearly as I can remember, is about 
five hundred feet; but in many places it is much less. 
River-like, it flows between impassable fields of lava on 
the one hand and of rock and sand on the other; but in all 
that long distance, not once is its course crossed by rock or 
lava! To me, this seems really remarkable; and so it is. 
Had that narrow pathway been prepared by the gods of 
Pinacate especially to help our puny wagons to a point 
close by the Papago Tanks, it could not have been done 
any better. 

For about three-fourths of its length it slopes toward 
the north and an arroyo leads down all that distance, with 
the usual small trees of mesquite, palo verde and iron- 
wood stringing along its banks. The green edge of the 
arboreal river stops short at the Vandyke-brown edge of 
the desert, and the straightness of all these north-and-south 
lines is one of the things at which to wonder. The lava 
plain on the eastern side is higher by several feet than the 
Pass, and upon it, like so many botanical exhibits on a 
broad bench, stand specimen ocatillas, small nigger-head 
cacti, torotes, an occasional choya and stunted, scattering 
bushes of several sorts. 

But it is on the western side of the green pass river 
that the most queer things are found. Several miles up 
from the Tule Desert, a colossal curiosity looms aloft. 
It is the eastern end of a short granite mountain, about 
one thousand feet high (as a guess), which once upon a 
time opened up a crater on its summit, from which much 



MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO i6i 

lava was discharged. We know this because a great mass 
of black lava, like a skull-cap, has been built up fifty feet 
high on the top of the granite mountain, and from the 
same source more lava flowed down through a notch on the 
southern side. Clearly, the granite hill-top is a victim of 
misplaced confidence; for had those internal ructions gone 
on a little longer, the whole of the original structure which 
kindly offered an accommodating outlet for the fires below 
would have been completely buried under the lava flow. 
I fancy that students of volcanoes may look far before the 
like of that will be found elsewhere. The black and fune- 
real lava resting on the clean, gray-granite peak is indeed 
a strange geological exhibit; and Mr. Sykes has christ- 
ened it Black-Cap Hill. 

Not far beyond that bit of history, and on the western 
side of the Pass, we came to a bare and smooth plain, 
beyond which stood the most unmitigated choya field that 
we saw on the whole trip. A forty-acre tract was thickly 
covered with sturdy specimens of the tree choya,* to the 
exclusion of everything else. The plants grew as tall as 
a man, and they stood so thickly that we could not walk 
through the nursery. It is useless to try to say "That 
reminds me" — for it reminds me of nothing under the 
sun. I know of nothing else in nature that looks like it. 
I essayed to take a record picture of it, but with indifferent 
success. 

Late in the afternoon we came to the crest of the water- 
shed that cuts across MacDougal Pass about ten miles 
south of monument i8o. It is a well-defined ridge 

*Opuniia julgida. 



i62 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

formed by westerly winds, laden with loose sand from the 
Gulf. As the sand-bearing winds encounter there a 
counter current of warm air flowing from the Tule Desert 
up the Pass, the sand is abruptly halted and piled up, on 
the south-western slope of the ridge. For half a mile men, 
horses and wagons simply wallow through the loose mass; 
and lucky it was for us that there were not miles of such 
going as that is! 

Once across that awful Sand Ridge, we found ourselves 
upon the floor of an amphitheatre, fairly encircled on i8o 
points of the compass by granite mountains — some near 
and some far away. Directly on our southward course 
there rose two isolated groups of noble proportions, per- 
haps five miles in circumference, and rising very steeply 
to a maximum height of about 800 feet. The eastern side 
of the most easterly group rises only 500 feet from the edge 
of the lava. 

A mile north of those mountains — nameless then, but 
since that day by the Doctor and Mr. Sykes formally 
christened Hornaday Mountains — there lies a fine meadow 
of galleta grass, of wide extent. In Spanish the word 
"galleta" is pronounced "guy-a'ta," and it means ** hard- 
tack*' — the fearfully stone-like crackers that are in vogue 
in army circles in war times. The "hard-tack" grass is a 
tough species of bunch-grass. 

Over a hundred acres or more the clumps of tall, 
coarse, gray stems held undisputed sway, untouched by 
cattle, horse or burro. At a few paces distance, the 
clumps of grass looked woody, dry and dead; but a closer 
inspection revealed bright green blades at intervals along 



MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 163 

the stems. This grass is the great stand-by of the horse 
in the desert — whenever it can be found. I think it is 
neither so woody nor so tough as it looks, for our horses 
always ate it most thankfully. 

Just beyond the Galleta Meadow, in the narrow gap 
between the two groups of mountains mentioned above, 
Dr. MacDougal discovered a wonderful desert botanical 
garden, and obtained of it a fine photograph. It is a most 
characteristic bit of south-western desert scenery — tree 
choyas, Bigelow choyas, giant cacti of dwarfed stature, 
creosote bushes, cat-claw acacias and the usual allotment 
of palo verde and mesquite. Behind the level ground 
rises an appropriate setting of stage mountains (all mine!), 
precisely like a scene in a first-class theatre. 

A short half mile beyond MacDougal's Garden we 
halted and went into camp, close beside the foot of my most 
easterly mountain, but as far as ever from Pinacate! A few 
minutes later I found within a stone's throw of our camp- 
fire a fine bunch of tracks of mountain sheep! Among 
those present there was a set which could have been made 
by nothing else than a large ram. 

With a warning to everybody to make no unnecessary 
noise, and on no account to fire a gun at anything smaller 
than a sheep. Dr. MacDougal and I quickly caught up our 
rifles and hurried off into the gap between the two nearby 
ranges. We hunted diligently until sunset, and although 
we saw no sheep we returned to camp feeling reasonably 
certain of a shot on the morrow. 

Mr. Phillips found in the Galleta Meadow an extra- 
fine jack-rabbit which he greatly desired to possess, but 



i64 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

knowing the desirability of not alarming any sheep by a 
gunshot, he laboriously followed up that jack and killed it 
with a feeble little '' pop " from his 22-calibre pistol. Until 
darkness fell, many eager glances were cast upon the visible 
faces of those mountains for sheep. Once I was sure that 
I saw one, and saw it move; but it turned out to be a trick 
of the fast-vanishing light, turned for a brief moment on 
a white Bigelow choya and then withdrawn. I thought it 
was the white rump-patch of a sheep. 

That camp was a dry one, and we had no water for 
those seventeen horses. Charlie Foster, Mr. Milton and 
Mr. Daniels compared notes and decided that we must be 
sufficiently near the Papago Tanks that by men on horse- 
back they might be reached in an hour or two. They 
decided to take all the horses and "make a try" for it; 
which they did. They rode off south-eastward across the 
lava-beds, on what seemed to me like a hopeless experi- 
ment. For myself, I was so dead tired that such a ride 
at that hour would have been a great task; but those three 
desert-wallahs seemed to take it wholly as a matter of 
course. 

They were gone about three hours, and returned at 
late bed-time, when the rest of us were stretched in our 
sleeping-bags, tired but triumphant. They had actually 
found the Papago Tanks; the tanks contained an abun- 
dance of good water, and the horses were serenely happy. 
The tanks were about five miles away, but — thank good- 
ness! — directly toward Pinacate. 

For the morrow we planned two important things. 
In one way or another, we would get the outfit to the tanks, 



MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 165 

and at the same time three of us would have a hunt for 
sheep in those near-by mountains, starting just as soon as 
the teams were well on their way. Once more every one 
was cautioned that because we were then in the haunts of 
big game, there must be no shooting at small game, nor 
unnecessary shooting of any kind. 

The morning after our night in the neck of MacDougal 
Pass dawned gloriously across the dark-brown lava land- 
scape and found every member of the party keenly ex- 
pectant of interesting events. The morning temperature 
was 42 degrees and the humidity 80 degrees. It was a 
great relief that at last we were to cease swinging around 
Pinacate, at a radius of about fifteen miles, and go directly 
toward it. As we pulled through what proved to be the 
last mile of the Pass, Mr. Phillips climbed upon a high 
point and secured a fine picture of the Pass and the outfit 
coming through it. Mr. Milton was absent, on a short 
side hunt for antelope, but otherwise the party was com- 
plete, and at its maximum strength. The reader will 
note from the picture that the giant cactus still welcomes 
us, but its stems are small, short and without branches. 
The ocatilla was there in fine stature — in fact, at its maxi- 
mum height, as we saw it on that tour. 

No sooner had we emerged from the southern end of 
the Pass and scattered toward our several ways than Mr. 
Sykes suddenly appeared, riding rapidly toward Dr. 
MacDougal, Mr. Phillips and me, waving and shouting. 

"Come up this way!" he cried. ^^ There's a huge 
crater^ just at the top of this ridge! It's grand!" And 
back he went again, as fast as he could go. 



i66 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

We quickly turned and followed the Geographer up 
a brown slope covered with small pieces of lava, toward 
the crest of what seemed to be a ridge. On reaching its 
summit, like a picture thrown upon a screen an immense 
crater suddenly yawned at our feet! Its rim was almost 
a perfect circle, two miles in circumference, and its top 
was nearly level. Its diameter at the top was about 
three-fourths of a mile. 

Far below, a floor almost as level as a lake spread 
across the abyss. Its surface was of clean yellow sand, 
but a dark area in the centre looked like moisture that had 
settled there during a recent rain. Evidently the sand 
that covered the floor had blown in from the near-by sand- 
hills of the Gulf Httoral. 

That crater floor was most strangely planted. It was 
fascinating to see, with such clearness of detail, how 
Nature had gone about her work. Each item of the 
planting was so separate and distinct that with the aid of 
a moderately good glass one could have counted the indi- 
vidual plants, even from the rim. In places the things 
were growing in rows, radiating from the centre outward; 
and I particularly call upon the long lines of creosote 
bushes in the southern end of the crater to bear witness 
to the truth of what I say. I think this has been brought 
about by the wash of storm water from the steep sides of 
the crater, flowing toward the central area. 

The sandy floor was stippled all over with tiny creo- 
sote bushes — like dark-coloured dots on pale-buff blotting- 
paper, very far apart. This, evidently, is the most per- 
sistent and hardy Pioneer of the Sand. The mesquite 



MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 167 

bushes had cKmbed down the walls of the crater, from 
every direction, and had marched about one-third of the 
distance out toward the centre. By and by, say in 
twenty-five years from now, they will meet in the centre. 
The eye easily picks them out, by their greater height 
and larger mass than the creosote. 

The oddest thing, however, was the invasion of the 
saguaro, or giant cactus. Evidently its advance-guard 
had found it impossible to climb down the steep walls, 
but at the south-eastern side of the crater they found a 
deep notch, and through that breach they were swarming 
in. About fifty of them had "made good" by getting 
down upon the crater floor, and they were marching 
forward in irregular open order to capture the place. A 
few skirmishers had ventured out fully half way to the 
centre, but the main body was back near the breach in the 
wall, as if to keep in touch with the one line of retreat. 
There was not one saguaro anywhere else on the crater 
floor. The invaders were just like so many soldiers in 
light fighting order — small, straight and limbless. 

Mr. Sykes lost not a moment in climbing down to the 
floor of the crater, taking its altitude and measuring its 
diameter, by pedometer. He reported it as being about 
400 feet in depth below the rim, 50 feet above sea level, 
and 1,200 yards in diameter on the bottom. As he paced 
across the floor, he looked like the terminal third of a pin, 
and it was with much difficulty that the unaided eye could 
pick him out. On the bottom he saw a jack-rabbit, 
several doves and a small rodent. 

This crater was not so very deep, and its sloping walls 



i68 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

were in many places quite practicable for a good climber. 
There are many craters that are larger than this, and in 
comparison with such gigantic manifestations as Kilauea 
or Mauna Loa in Hawaii, this is a mere saucepan. For 
all that, however, as desert craters go, it is a big one, and 
the perfection of its modelling is thoroughly satisfactory. 
It is all there, and excepting its floor it is exactly as it 
was when the last ton of lava was thrown out, and the 
fire under the boiler was permitted to go out because there 
was no more work for it to do. In all probability there is 
plenty of lava buried under the sands on the western side 
of the crater that have blown up from the Gulf, but at 
present the only visible work of this crater, of any decided 
importance, is the lava field toward the east, which boiled 
out through the notch and flowed toward Pinacate for 
two miles or more. 

That crater was the leading sensation of the day — but 
not the only one. When the teams arrived opposite the 
point of view, the men leaped from the wagons and fled 
up the lava-covered slope to the sky-line, for a share of the 
wonder. At imminent risk to the safety of "Bill" and 
*' Maude," the whole party of men and dogs strung itself 
along the rim, vainly striving to absorb into their systems 
an adequate impression of the wonderful scene. Early in 
the game three photographers went to work. Of course, 
no camera could take in the entire crater on one plate, nor 
even the half of it; so each of the two real photographers 
made a three-section panorama. Their pictures are very 
good, especially when put together in a strip two feet long; 
but when an effort is made to reduce all that down to the 




^ s 



MACDOUGAL PASS AND VOLCANO 169 

length of a book illustration, the grandeur of it goes all to 
pieces, and the reduction is a tame spectacle. 

It was while we were admiring the crater at the rate 
of twenty interjections per minute, and the camera men 
were working their hardest, that we were startled by two 
thundering reports coming from the notch, just out of our 
sight, southward. As the roar of the shots rose on the 
still air, resounded through the crater and undoubtedly 
travelled far beyond, we all looked at each other in blank 
astonishment. 

"Who was that.?" 

"It must be Daniels and Charlie.'* 

"They must have found some sheep in that notch!" 

So they had; but not as we thought; and the sequel 
was one of the most exciting and painful episodes of the 
trip. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 

An Unpleasant Episode at MacDougal Crater — Mr. Daniels Leaves 
Us — By Pack-Train Across the Lava — The Papago Tanks — Aque- 
ducts Through the Lava — Our Little Oasis — The White Brittle 
Bush — Vegetable Life on the Lava. 

For some reasons I would be glad to leave out of my 
story the next incident; but the man who puts his hand 
to the plough to run a furrow of narrative into a wild and 
unknown country has no other option than to be a faithful 
historian. My hunting trips always have been so free 
from painful incidents that the one at MacDougal Crater 
was very much of a novelty. 

At the eastern foot of the MacDougal Volcano, where 
the wagons halted while the drivers ran up to see the 
sight, the lava imposed a barrier squarely across our course 
— impassable for wheels. There the wagons were elected 
to remain until we were ready to take the trail homeward. 
From that point onward our progress must needs be by 
pack-horses; and it was three and one-half miles to the 
tanks. 

Quite near to the rearmost wagon stood a grand ocatilla 
in full leaf, of seventy-two stems, and eighteen feet in 
height; and while the clan was gathering from the crater 

I essayed to make a photograph of the Finest. One by 

170 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 171 

one the members of the party came down, and finally came 
the Doctor. 

Some of us had heard the news that Daniels and 
Charlie had seen five mountain sheep run up out of the 
crater, and pending further inquiry we concluded that the 
two shots fired had been at those animals. But Dr. 
MacDougal had also heard something else. As he rode 
close up to the group around the wagons and reined up his 
horse, he said to Daniels, 

"You and Charlie saw some sheep, didn't you?" 

"Yes," answered Mr. Daniels, "we saw five." 

"Where were they?" 

"They ran up out of the crater." 

"And you missed them?" 

"No, we didn't shoot at them. They were too far 
away." 

" But you fired twice. What did you shoot at ? " 

"Oh, I just shot at some rocks over there," answered 
Daniels, as if bored by the question. 

Then the Doctor said, quite calmly, 

"You know, Mr. Daniels, that it was agreed between 
us all that when we reached big-game country there should 
be no shooting around camp, and no unnecessary shooting 
of any kind." 

"Well," answered Daniels with defiant insolence, "for 
one, I'm agoin to shoot at anything I please — any timer* 

His words went through me like electricity, and my 
interest in the photography of ocatillas suddenly ceased. 
The overt act, and the deliberate defiance of us all, were 
both outrageous. But it was not necessary for any third 



• 



172 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

party to say aught just then, for the Doctor gave no one 
an opportunity. Instantly he boiled over. 

"Now, then," said he, white with anger, "there is one 
thing that we are going to settle, right here, once and for 
all. It has been thoroughly understood that there should 
be no unnecessary shooting in big-game country, and I'll 
be d — d if any man in this party shall be allowed to spoil 
the sport of everybody else and thwart one of the objects 
of this expedition. There are two gentlemen here who 
have come a mighty long way to see this country and have 
a little shooting, and they're going to have what they came 
here for, or I'll know the reason why." 

Now, no man who ever has crossed the Plains needs 
to be told that such a declaration of war, addressed to a 
strange man on the off-side of the Boundary, who always 
carries a loaded six-shooter and very seldom smiles, is a 
very chancy proceeding; and when that man is passion- 
ately desirous of shooting everything in sight, the uncer- 
tainty of the result is intensified. 

It was at this juncture that Mr. Phillips rode up to the 
outer edge of the group. Long before the Doctor had 
finished what he had to say I joined the inner circle, and 
having chanced to stand quite near Mr. Daniels, my op- 
portunity to note his movements was as good as could be 
desired. At first his face flushed a deep, angry red, then 
went pale and cold. He began to untie, and tie anew, the 
leather thong that held the muzzle of his big six-shooter 
in place against his thigh; and I thought it a strange 
moment to be adjusting a loaded revolver. As the Doctor 
finished he said. 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 173 

"Well, I'll pull out in the mornin'." 

Then he went on tying down the muzzle of his gun, 
as if he feared that otherwise it might get away from him; 
and I watched him, fascinated. 

Mr. Milton struck in with a strong protest, and among 
other things he said that he had invited Mr. Daniels to 
come as his guest, and that if his friend felt obliged to 
leave he (Milton) would have to go with him — much as 
he might regret the necessity for doing so. 

And then Charlie Foster — our hired man — got up on 
his hind legs and said, 

"If Mill-ton go, /go!" 

Then some of the rest of us expressed our views, in 
which Dr. MacDougal, Mr. Phillips and I were a unit. 
We all said, 

"This is a plain business proposition. Three of us 
have come here to study the country and its animals and 
do a little shooting. If everybody else is going to shoot 
all over the country, at all times, in defiance of our wishes, 
and defeat the objects of the trip, we may as well turn 
around here and go home. But we don't propose to do 
that. No man save Dr. MacDougal is indispensable to 
this party. If Mr. Daniels is willing to live up to the 
necessary rules of the game, we shall be glad to have him 
stay with us; for we appreciate what he has done for us 
up to this point. But, if there is any man in the party who 
doesn't care to play the game according to the rules, we 
shall have to get along without him. No man need stay a 
moment on our account, for we are abundantly able to go 
on, do all that we came to do, and get out again, all right." 



174 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Mr. Milton did his best to mollify his friend, and in- 
duce him to change his mind, although strongly protesting 
all the while that the Doctor had been "too severe"; but 
Daniels' only reply was, 

"You can do as you like, but I tell you Vm again — 
in the morning." 

"Well," said Jeff, reluctantly, "if you go. Til have to 
go with you; but it's too bad to divide the outfit." 

That expression — "divide the outfit" — roused the 
Doctor afresh. He said, 

"If this outfit is to be divided at all, it's going to be 
divided to-day, and right now! There's nothing to be 
gained by postponing it. We'll give you an outfit of pro- 
visions; and Jeff, here's the remainder of the ammunition 
that I brought for you." 

The Doctor went to one of his boxes and pulled out a 
bag containing at least a peck of cartridges in the original 
packages, which he emptied upon a blanket at Mr. Mil- 
ton's feet. Daniels immediately went to work to "cut 
out" his blankets and clothing, and make up a pack for 
his spare horse. He was offered provisions, but to the last 
he sullenly refused to accept anything. Very soon he 
mounted and rode away eastward across the lava, leading 
his pack-horse. 

For a time we were much depressed by this incident; 
but, as the French say in such cases — qui voulez vousP 
What will you have ? A man who refuses to abide by the 
rules of a game simply cannot sit in it. 

Of course there was much conversation not recorded 
above. We were profoundly sorry — and said so — at being 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 175 

compelled to lay down the law to a man who had served 
us as faithfully as did Mr. Daniels on the previous day; 
but we had come too far to have the trip spoiled by the 
foolishness of any one man. We were quite certain that 
with our original Tucson party the trip could be carried 
out according to programme, successfully, and we were 
ready to say good-by to the whole Sonoyta contingent, if 
need be. 

I am glad to say that Mr. Milton reconsidered his first 
decision — that he was in honour bound to follow the lead 
of Daniels. I think he must have recognized the justice 
of our position, for he remained with us. After the de- 
parture of Daniels, we never again discussed the incident, 
or even mentioned it. He remained with us to the end, 
did absolutely everything in his power to contribute to 
the pleasures and successes of the trip, and we enjoyed 
his company very greatly. 

On the day that we reached the Ajo Mines on our 
way out to Gila Bend, whom should we meet at "the store" 
but Mr. Daniels! He was on his way down with a load 
of "outfit," for himself, and was about to begin some 
contract work on a mining claim. He had no use for me, 
or for Dr. MacDougal, but was friendly toward Mr. 
Phillips, even to the extent of standing (with John's rifle) 
for a photograph against a near-by palo verde. 

MacDougal Pass ends at MacDougal Crater, and 
there all heavy wagon travel stops. It might be possible 
for an empty buck-board to wind its way two or three 
miles farther, across the least-rough lava plains, or even 
with some work to reach to Papago Tanks; but I advise 



176 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 



1 



any one who thinks of attempting it first to make a prac- 
ticable road across the lava gulches and arroyos. 

We abandoned our wagons at the Crater, and our 
horses were immediately packed with as much of our im- 
pedimenta as they could carry. It is quite a chore to 
overhaul a wagon-load of miscellaneous freight, in all 
sorts of receptacles, assort it for carriage by horse, and 
make it up into packs that will ride without slipping and 
without injury to the back of the party of the first part. 
But Frank Coles is a genuine expert in packing, and with 
the skilled assistance of Jess Jenkins, Jeff^ Milton and 
Charlie Foster, the work was soon accomplished, and the 
long line of horses began to wind its sinuous way over the 
lava field. 

It gave us queer sensations — to strike ofi^ straight 
toward the centre of that great black expanse, the crater 
and the awful Sand-Hills behind us, dead volcano cones 
and peaks on both sides of us and all kinds of lava under- 
foot. Ahead of us was roughness, ruggedness, low lava 
cones and high ones — brown, red and innumerable, 
finally culminating in Pinacate itself. All we knew of the 
country ahead of us was that it was all lava, mostly very 
rough, and Pinacate was *'as far away as ever!" 

The trail of three and one-half miles over to the tanks 
proved to be not so very bad. There were stretches of 
fairly level plain whereon the footing was smooth enough 
to be really good, and the lava sprinkled over the surface 
was in such small bits that no one minded it. 

Without knowing it on that first day, we passed quite 
near another big crater, and also two massive dead vol- 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 177 

cano cones; but there were no terrible tracts of pressure- 
ridge lava such as we found in scores of places farther 
along. Our route to the tanks was garnished with ocatil- 
las, bisnaga cacti, the inevitable choya of Bigelow, and an 
occasional Encelia and dragon's blood; of which, more 
anon. 

The impression made by the sight of a new thing in 
Nature is wholly dependent upon the observer's frame of 
mind. It is always a great pity for a traveller to see any 
new thing of paramount interest when he is too hot, too 
cold, too wet or too dry to enjoy it. The human mind is 
like a photographer's negative. If the emulsion is not 
too old and stale, if there is not too much halation, too 
much smoke of cigarettes or mental fog, the image will 
be sharp and clear, and appreciated. 

I think that of our party, every man, horse and dog 
fully appreciated and admired the Papago Tanks. How 
I wish I could interview "Maude" and "Bill" to-day — 
the leading mules of our stock company — and have them 
tell me whether they remember the sweet, clear water of 
that big pool, and the gloomy walls of lava rock that sur- 
round it. If it were possible to know, I would willingly 
wager that they do remember it, perfectly, and if lost in 
MacDougal Pass could find it again. 

I envy those travellers and writers to whom every mani- 
festation of Nature is like an open book with a drop- 
light over it. Would that I had been born a geologist of 
the kind to whom all things are known; especially the 
Dim Past! Could we have borrowed one for our trip, 
how useful he would have been on those lava beds! But 



• 



178 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

now it Is too late; and I fear I never will know how 
those deep water-courses were cut down into that flinty 
lava rock, and how those Papago Tanks were blasted 
out of seamless basalt harder than hematite. If any one 
says "erosion," or "the action of water,'* you may say — 
"Nonsense!" In such flinty rock as that which bounds 
the Papago Tanks, a three-inch rainfall could not scoop 
out a four-foot basin in a million years. That rock is as 
smooth as a plate of steel armor, and almost as hard. It 
glistens like vitrified brick. 

Volcano cones, deep craters and lava flows are not so 
very mysterious; but those deep, ditch-like arroyos cut 
through flinty lava certainly puzzled the undersigned. 
There are dozens of them — ay, scores of them. They 
head far up toward Pinacate, and in the first five hun- 
dred feet from their parent mountain-side, down they go 
into the lava, ten feet, or twenty feet, just like so many 
open subways blasted out of solid rock. In trying to 
cross an innocent-looking lava plain you suddenly fetch 
up on the brink of one of those strangest-of-all water- 
courses. It may easily be thirty feet deep, with walls 
absolutely perpendicular; and you may have to hunt up 
or down for a quarter of a mile before you find a way to 
scramble down to the bottom. The walls and bottom are 
of bare rock, clean and spotless, and wherever you find a 
pool of water, be it a cupful or a hundred barrels, it will 
be crystal clear and sweet as a mountain spring. 

No; those huge stone aqueducts were not made "by 
the action of water!" My word for it! In a country 
wherein the average annual rainfall must be about three 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 179 

inches, storm water could not excavate one of those rock 
arroyos in a decilHon of years; and from the story of the 
lava and the craters, we know that the time limit of that 
land does not reach back that far, by at least a billion. 

The Papago Tanks are great. As Napoleon once 
was said to be, they really are "grand, gloomy and pecul- 
iar." Of course they are situated in one of those stone- 
aqueduct arroyos which comes down three or four miles 
from the Pinacate Mountains. Out of the lower side of a 
burnished wall of smooth, bluish basalt at least twenty 
feet high, there has been scooped a deep niche, and the 
floor of it has been deepened to four feet, to make a basin. 
On the western side there is a nice little beach of sand and 
gravel, and back of that huge boulders of basaltic lava 
have been piled up promiscuously. It was in the pool 
which lies in the bottom of that rock-rimmed basin that 
we watered our stock — and I wish you could have seen 
them there on that first day! They drank, and sighed 
contentedly; they tossed the water with their muzzles, 
then they pawed it until it flew all over us. My black 
horse presently lay down in it, and took a bath! 

The surprise of those horses in finding such a body of 
water in that lava-bed was literally overwhelming; and 
how they did enjoy it! 

Back of the large pool— which was dedicated to the 
horses of the outfit — another basin has been carved out, 
for another pool, but much smaller. It looks like a big 
black cistern with a piece bitten out of one side. As I re- 
member, it is about twelve feet in diameter and twenty feet 
high, and the pool occupies practically the entire bottom. 



i8o CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Upon the ragged lava above, the vegetation of the desert 
has bravely estabhshed holdings, and the nakedness of 
the burned-out mass is relieved here and there by pale- 
green splashes of mesquite. Like sentinels guarding the 
precious liquid down below, two stunted but persistent 
saguaros stand on the bare lava that forms the westerly 
rim of the tanks. 

There is a third tank, of good size, that lies on a still 
lower level, amid a chaos of loose boulders; and being 
the nearest to our camp, qui cooks drew upon it for our 
daily supply. In all three of the pools the water was 
delicious, and at the time of our entry contained no algae. 
Later on, however, the level of the Horse Pool lowered 
considerably and a mass of green algae formed over half 
of its surface. All these pools contained many specimens 
of a small species of crustacean, belonging to the genus 
A pus. They were only an inch in length, rather soft for 
crustaceans, and in colour dull, lustreless gray. We also 
found specimens of a cosmopolitan species of water- 
beetle, — Eretes sttcticus, — that is found all the way from 
Japan across country to Peru. The only other life in 
the tanks consisted of larvae of the dragon-fly, gorgeously 
coloured purple, scarlet, yellow and green. These were 
quite abundant. 

It is to be remembered that we found this abundance 
of good water in the Papago Tanks at the end of an unusu- 
ally wet "rainy season." Travellers who visit them in a 
dry year, or in spring or summer, are liable to find them 
totally dry; in which case the result may easily become 
very serious. If the pools are dry, the nearest water will 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS i8i 

be in the Represa Tank, twenty-five miles away in an air 
line on the Camino del Diablo, or, worse still, in the 
Sonoyta River — goodness knows how far away — fifty or 
sixty long, hot miles. Therefore do I say to those who 
may come after us — do not rashly attempt to negotiate the 
Papago Tanks without knowing precisely how you are 
going to "save your bacon"* in the event that you find 
them dry. 

The lower environs of the Papago Tanks are in reality 
an oasis — small, but of paramount value. The lower 
pool marks the upper end of an arroyo, or barranca, of 
great importance to this region, for its vegetation furnishes 
an abundance of shade, grass and fire-wood. The stream- 
bed of loose sand varies in width from one hundred feet to 
two hundred, and the little ribbon of level valley through 
which it runs is a perfect jungle of big mesquite and palo 
verde trees, ironwood, desert willows and smaller things. 
There was an abundance of galleta grass for our horses, 
without which the place would have been actually un- 
tenable. "LuckP" It certainly was. This arroyo runs 
westward clear down to the edge of the sand-hills, ten or 
twelve miles at least, but below the Papago Tanks it is 
waterless save in times of flood. 

We camped on a lovely little plaza, at the northern edge 
of the oasis, facing a horribly rough hill of lava. It was 
a very bad quarter of a mile to the Horse Pool. Up on 
the lava hill north of our plaza we found two large piles 

*This classic exhortation, from the ball-grounds of the western school-boy, 
is particularly useful in the south-western deserts, and might well be pasted in 
every traveller's hat. 



i82 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

of stones, placed there by Papago Indians, and near them 
a pile of eighteen badly charred horns of mountain-sheep 
rams that had been butchered to make a Papago holiday. 
This spot lies on what once was the route taken by the 
Indians of the Sonoyta valley to reach the saline deposits 
of the Gulf of California on their annual journeys for 
suppHes of salt. Had those trips continued a little. longer 
the mountain sheep of Pinacate surely would have been 
exterminated by the Bean-Eaters, root and branch. 

Naturally, we were greatly interested in the vegetation 
around the Tanks. There we found, in its prime, a 
beautiful white-leafed bush called Encelia farinosa, but 
apparently in need of a good English name. To supply 
this absurd omission, we will hereafter call it the White 
Brittle-Bush. 
^/^ The White Brittle-Bush, as seen standing alone on 
bare black lava, is truly a thing of beauty. It is hemi- 
spherical, symmetrical, immaculate and clean as a new 
shirt. It is like a big white bouquet. Its leaves are all 
on the outside, and although its branches are large and 
stocky — for the storage of water — they are so brittle that 
you can grasp a great handful of the outer stems and, with 
one movement, snap off every one of them as if they were 
so many pipe-stems of clay. The leaves are very large — 
for a desert plant — the blade being shaped like a broad 
arrow-head, one and one-half inches long by one and one- 
quarter wide. The flower is a little yellow composite, 
like a tiny yellow daisy, thrust far up on the tip of a frail 
and friable little flower-stalk six inches higher than the 
periphery of the foliage. We found few of them in flower, 




From a photograph by D. T. MacDougal 



The Spiny Smoke Tree 




From a photograph by D. T. MacDougal 



The White Brittle-Bush 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 183 

but enough for our inquisitive purpose. To the taste, the 
foliage is strongly aromatic, pungent and bitter, and re- 
calls the foliage of the common sage-brush {Artemisia). 
Apparently no animal eats the stems or foliage of the 
White Brittle-Bush; and we are very glad of it, for it is 
truly a soft and pleasing thing to contemplate on the 
scowling lava-fields. The mountain sheep doubtless 
shared our views, since nearly every one killed was found 
to have browsed amply on the slender, delicate dead flower- 
stalks of the last season that still adhered to the stems, 
and projected above the grayish-green mass. This bush 
is said to be widespread in the south-western desert, but 
I did not notice it an5rwhere outside that Pinacate-Sonoyta 
region; which may have been my fault. 

Naturally, in such a wild and weird spot as the Pina- 
cate region, every plant, tree and living creature is of 
interest — rendered so by the grim surroundings and the 
intensity of the struggle to survive. It is fair to assume 
that the plant life we saw at the Papago Tanks represents 
only the boldest and hardiest species of the south-western 
desert region; because, were they otherwise, they as- 
suredly would not be there. \\ am therefore tempted to 
mention a few more of the plant species that grew in the 
little valley that ran through the lava waste like a green 
ribbon trailing through a cinder-bed. 

I have already mentioned the Iron- Wood Tree.* In 
size and general appearance it strongly resembles both the 
mesquite and the acacia — all of which have tiny leaves 
and look very much alike. Its wood is intensely hard and 

*Olneya tesota. 



i84 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

solid, in which it goes to the opposite extreme from the 
numerous bushes with big, soft, pithy stems that have 
been specially developed for the quick absorption and 
storage of large quantities of water. 

Quite near our camp were several Spiny Smoke-Trees, 
or Indigo Trees {Parosela spinas a), one of which was the 
largest and finest specimen I ever saw growing wild and 
untrammelled. Dr. MacDougal made of it a very fine 
photograph. The peculiar fluffiness of its foliage and its 
green-gray colour render it conspicuous from afar, and 
instantly recognizable. 

The giant cactus had indeed gained a foothold on 
the lava, but on account of the scarcity of water and the 
total lack of soil, the straggling specimens of it were very 
small and limbless. The organ-pipe cactus was quite 
absent from the lava, and so was the large barrel cactus. 

In that land, it is safe to guess that any shrub which 
is not protected by thorns is defended by a bitter taste. 
The big-stemmed, small-leafed bush called "torote prieto" 
is almost as bitter to the taste as quassia, and is rarely 
eaten. But it is no wonder that any plant growing on 
naked lava should be bitter. Any struggle for existence 
that is too fierce to be interesting is apt to embitter the 
party of the first part. 

The banks of the arroyo near our camp were a dense 
jungle, in places almost impenetrable. There were great 
patches of a tall, rank weed, with large leaves, much re- 
sembling the iron-weed of my boyhood days. Over the 
tangle there sometimes ran a dark-green vine, with fine 
tendrils {Echinopepon wrighti), that much resembles our 



PAPAGO TANKS AND THE LAVA FIELDS 185 

wild morning-glory. As usual, we depended upon the old 
reliable mesquite for the camp-fire, and it never failed us. 

Of course there were several species of cacti on the 
lava, mostly small bisnagas and choyas, but they will be 
spoken of later on in the cactus chapter. 

As soon as our pack-train had been unloaded at the 
Papago Tanks, the Doctor's tent was put up to shelter 
our belongings from dust, and we established ourselves 
in what might be called a "permanent camp.'* It was a 
wonderfully weird spot, and no sooner were we settled in 
it than things began to happen. 



CHAPTER XIV 

EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND MOUNTAIN SHEEP 

A Blank Sheep Hunt to the Author's Mountains — Mr. Milton Scores 
with Two Sheep — Mr. PhilHps Kills Two Rams — The Clover-leaf 
Crater — The Sykes Crater — 'Awful Lava Cones — The Dead Ram 
and Its Surroundings — Mr. Phillips tells the Story of the Rainbow 
Rams. 

The fifteenth of November was one of the great days 
of the trip; but for once my luck abandoned me, and in the 
thrilling events I was not among those present. 

Three hunting parties went out for mountain sheep. 
Mr. Milton went north-east, Mr. Phillips, Mr. Sykes and 
Charlie Foster went north, while Dr. MacDougal and I 
went back to try out the granite mountains west of the 
southern end of the Pass — beside which we had camped 
and found fresh sheep signs. 

Like the luckless whaler of New Bedford, the Botanist 
and I got no sheep, "but we had a mighty fine sail." We 
circled around the big crater, close under its rim, but found 
no sheep within. We combed all those mountain sides, 
as with a fine-toothed comb. We climbed high up into 
the heart of the southern group of mountains, where by 
good rights there should have been a dozen big rams, but 
found no sheep. 

At noon we unsaddled at the extreme western foot of 

i86 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 187 

the range in the edge of the sand-hills, and while our 
horses restfully cropped the galleta grass we studied the 
botany of the sands. Lying low on a dune, we saw pre- 
cisely how the light, dry sand steadily and persistently 
travels eastward, close along the surface of the fixed de- 
posit, a thin sheet of it rolling forward up and down the 
undulations until somewhere it reaches an insurmountable 
barrier and stops. 

We circumnavigated that entire group of mountains, 
and with our glasses searched every side and summit, 
confident that we would strike several bands of big-horn; 
but none were struck. On the Galleta Meadow there were 
many jack-rabbits, but they were as safe from us as if 
they had been in a zoo. Our long, circular ride brought 
us back to the abandoned wagons at sunset, and we had 
to pick our way campward in the dark; but the young 
moon was helpful, and by going slowly we successfully 
followed the trail. 

On reaching camp we found that Mr. Milton had re- 
turned, successful. He had killed a five-year-old ram, 
and a ewe with horns that for a female sheep were truly 
very large. Naturally, we regretted the death of the ewe; 
but at the same time it was a good thing to have one fine, 
old female specimen. 

Mr. Milton hastened to explain and justify the shooting 
of the ewe on the ground that she was the first sheep that 
he saw, and the camp was very much in need of meat. 
The ram was seen and killed a little later, as it dashed 
past him out of the crater of an extinct volcano of the 
conical species. 



i88 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

It was Mr. Phillips and Mr. Sykes who scored heaviest 
on that day. They returned through the darkness very 
shortly after the Doctor and I arrived, tired but triumphant. 
Mr. Sykes had two splendid new craters to his credit and 
Mr. Phillips had collected two lava rams. Of the latter, 
one was an Old Residenter, with magnificent horns, and 
the other was a five-year-old. 

Mr. Sykes was fairly bursting with enthusiasm over 
the craters and the sheep, but Mr. Phillips's chief excite- 
ment was due to the astounding manner in which Mr. 
Sykes had put a hundred and fifty pounds of mountain- 
sheep ram on his back and carried it a mile down a 
terrible mountain side of rough lava garnished with choyas, 
to the horses. I never knew any feat of arms — or of legs — 
to so arouse John M. as did that; but when I saw that 
mountain side, a few hours later, I fully understood the case. 

That night we feasted on mountain-sheep steaks that 
were young and tender; and everybody gormandized 
except me. I never saw any other white men eat as did 
my companions on that trip! But, after all, I enjoyed 
seeing their enjoyment. Boys will be boys; and out in 
the wilds where there is much to do and no one to criticise, 
why should they not for once eat all they want ? 

The next morning, early and brightly, we set out for 
the craters and the scene of carnage. First we went to 
the crater which the Boys said was "shaped like a clover- 
leaf." It is north-west of the Papago Tanks, distant about 
three miles, and as seen from below there is nothing 
visible save a rather steep ridge with a level line for a 
summit. 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 189 

This crater is deeper than the Doctor's crater, and in 
saying that it is shaped Hke a clover-leaf, the Boys de- 
scribed it very well. Two of the leaves, toward the east 
and south, embrace about four-fifths of the floor area. 
The third one, which is in the north-west corner, is a tiny 
one — about one-fifth the whole. The three leaves are 
divided from each other by buttresses of lava that are 
built up against the main wall. 

As in honour bound, Mr. Sykes climbed down into 
that crater to measure it. He found it to be two hun- 
dred and fifty feet deep, one thousand five hundred feet 
wide at the bottom, and its rim was nearly a mile in cir- 
cumference. 

In honour of Senor Olegario Molina, Secretary of the 
Department of Fomento, of the Republic of Mexico, who 
is worthy of much honour, we named that discovery 
Molina Crater. 

But in craters, the Wonder of wonders was reserved 
for the last. The record-breaker rises — and also descends 
— almost due east of the Papago Tanks, The foot of its 
final slope upward is, by Mr. Sykes's pedometer, three and 
a half miles distant from our camp, across a stretch of 
very rough lava. It is half a mile from the foot of the 
steep slope to the top of the rim, and a mighty stiff climb 
at that. But for the sheep to be brought down, Mr. 
Phillips and I would have left our horses at the foot of 
the cone; but, knowing that we would need them higher 
up, we dismounted and led them zigzagging upward. 

I thought that the descriptions of the two excitable 
members had prepared my mind for the Sykes Crater, 



190 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

and that I could take it quite calmly; but I was wrong on 
both counts. No man — unless it be one who is thoroughly 
crater-wise — can absorb from any man's description, or 
from any picture, an adequate conception of that abyss. 
You seem to stand at the Gateway to the Hereafter. The 
hole in the earth is so vast, and its bottom is so far away, 
it looks as if it might go down to the centre of the earth. 
The walls go down so straight and so smooth that at one 
point only can man or mountain sheep descend or climb 
out. There the roughness of the rocks renders it possible 
for a bold and nerveless mountaineer — as much as possible 
unlike the present incumbent — to make the trip. 

Of course Mr. Sykes went down, bearing his aneroid 
and pedometer. The depth of it, from rim to bottom, he 
found to be 750 feet, and the inside diameter, at the bot- 
tom, was 1,400 feet. The bottom is about 150 feet above 
sea level. 

In summing up the evidence he said, 

"How far do you think it is around this rim?" 

I thought *'a mile and a half"; but to keep from being 
surprised I said, 

**Two miles." And he said, 

"It is very nearly three!" 

The Washington Monument is 555 feet high. Imagine 
a round hole wider than the length of Battery Park, New 
York, going down so far that with the monument standing 
on its floor you would have to look down two hundred feet 
farther in order to see the aluminum cap on the apex. 

The floor of the Sykes Crater is so far down that from 
the top of the rim one sees only a small portion of it. 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 191 

You see a light stipple of vegetation dotted over the level 
sand, but it is impossible to tell anything about the char- 
acter of it. Mr. Sykes found it consisted of the following 
species: Choya, giant cactus, palo verde, creosote bush, 
mesquite and galleta grass. 

We lingered long on that breezy rim, gazing spell-bound 
into the abyss, and at the red lava peaks looming up high 
above the rim on both the east and the west. By way of 
contrast we turned occasionally and gazed off at the 
scowling, gnarled and rugged brown landscape surround- 
ing the foot of the cone far below — a grim and terrible 
prospect, no less. Near at hand a thin sprinkling of ocatil- 
las and choyas and lower down the mesquites and palo 
verdes strove to enliven the sullen lava-heaps with flecks 
of cheerful green verdure, and with pronounced success. 
If there is any spot on earth wherein it is possible to be 
thankful for a Bigelow choya, it is on a field of lava which 
lies scowling and raging at the heavens. The widely 
scattered splashes of pale green do something to take the 
curse off the lava. 

On that particular morning the wind swept over the 
top of the crater with a violence which added to the 
weirdness of the scene. Gradually we worked our way 
around, eastward, to the highest point of the rim, striving 
as we went to "take it all in." At several points the apex 
of the rim consists of sandstone formed by the fusing of 
masses of volcanic sand under the influence of intense 
heat. It needed no stretch of the imagination to picture 
the hot breath of that vast furnace-mouth coughing up 
thousands of tons of sand, piling it on the rim, then licking 



192 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 



1 



it with tongues of flame until it melted together and formed 
what we see to-day. 

One might hastily suppose that the flanking peaks 
of red lava, east and west, had been thrown out of the 
Sykes Crater and piled up; but not so. They were 
formed of molten lava; and molten lava is not thrown up 
into the air. It flows out of the lowest notch in its parent 
crater, like so much red-hot metal, and slowly spreads 
over the surrounding country until it becomes too stiff to 
flow. Just how it forms elevated pressure-ridges, like 
arctic ice, I cannot imagine; and I pass the question 
higher up. 

One thing, however, was perfectly clear. The whole 
three and one-half miles of lava lying between the foot of 
the Sykes Crater and our camp at the Papago Tanks 
came down from that volcano. At this point the bowels 
of the earth gave forth the lava that afterward piled up in 
brown hills and red crags along the north-eastern side of 
our camp plaza, and stopped abruptly there. You can 
see a large-sized detail of it in the picture that shows 
the members of the party in the group photograph. 

And all this time, a patriarchal mountain ram, dead 
for a ducat, has patiently been awaiting us near the top of 
the highest lava peak on our eastward hand. We saw 
much rough lava in the Pinacate district, but our way up 
to that sheep was over the roughest of the rough. The 
worst of it lay in chunks the size of steamer trunks — red, 
deeply pitted on every surface and sharp on every edge. 
There was not a thimbleful of soil, sand or ashes, nor any 
other fine material. The greatest circumspection and 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 193 

nimble-footedness was required to carry one over It with- 
out broken ankles or cut knees. I have gone over the 
lava-fields around Vesuvius, but the worst that I saw there 
was like a smooth road In comparison with those cones at 
the Sykes Crater, and others elsewhere In that district. 

When we finally reached the summit of the high cone 
that rose nearest to the crater, we saw before us a semi- 
circular ridge leading away to our right, and Mr. Phillips 
said that the dead sheep lay on the farther end of it. 
Keeping upon the summit, we worked our way along for 
several hundred feet, then gingerly picked our way down 
the slope to the quarry. There we paused to look 
about. 

We were on the side of a high and very steep mountain 
of red lava that was liberally garnished with Bigelow 
choyas — the meanest of the mean. A false step would 
have meant a fall of perhaps ten or twenty feet on lava 
blocks that would cut like knives; but there would have 
been no prolonged rolling. The lava was terrible, but the 
awful choyas that were so generously sprinkled over It 
were the crowning insult. Their millions of white, horn- 
like spines glistened in the sunlight and looked very clean 
and pretty, but the thought of stumbling and falling upon 
one of them gave me chills.* 

And yet, it was down this very mountain side that yes- 
terday Mr. Sykes, the invincible, carried the hundred-and- 
fifty-pound body of that five-year-old ram (minus the 

* Mr. Sykes and Dr. MacDougal have very appropriately named the red lava 
peaks surrounding Sykes Crater in honour of Mr. John M. Phillips, and they 
appear on the map as Phillips Buttes. 



194 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

viscera) at the imminent risk of falling and cutting himself 
in pieces. Once he did stumble against two choyas, and 
while his hands gripped the sheep the choyas simply 
filled them full of spines — of the worst and most painful 
kind in all the south-west. His account of this incident 
is as follows: 

*'When Mr. Phillips had killed his two bucks, and we 
had all duly gloated over the remains, I suddenly happened 
to think of the hungry looks of this crowd as we left camp 
this morning, and I realized that nothing less than a whole 
sheep would be of any use to it! It was therefore a matter 
of getting one of those carcasses to camp, at all costs. 
Since we were so far up the mountain side that the horses 
could not get within three-quarters of a mile of us, the 
obvious thing to do seemed to be to pick up one of those 
sheep and carry it to the horses; so I did it." 

No wonder Mr. Phillips was moved to enthusiastic 
admiration of Mr. Sykes's splendid feat; and to his ever- 
lasting honour be it recorded that he celebrated the inci- 
dent by presenting to the Invincible Geographer the 
mounted head of that hard-won sheep. As for Mr. 
Sykes — dear me! He regarded the carrying as nothing at 
all; but he did speak a little reproachfully of the treachery 
of Bigelow's choya when it had him at a foul disadvantage. 

Before striking a blow at the dead ram, we sat down to 
rest, and hear how the sheep were found, what they did, 
and all the rest of it; and this is what Mr. Phillips told 
us while we listened and surveyed the scene of the tragedy: 

*'Mr. Sykes and I came up here late yesterday after- 
noon. We had spent the day over toward the north- 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 195 

eastward, studying small craters and looking for sheep at 
the same time. Finally we decided to come back to this 
big one for another look about it, and we arrived here 
when the sun was about an hour high. 

*'We found it a very stiff and rough climb up the 
northern side of this peak; but we didn't waste any time 
resting, for besides being late it began to rain. 

"When we reached that summit yonder I started to 
look over the east side, when Sykes whispered, * Sheep!* 
Turning quickly, I saw him down on his stomach with an 
apologetic look on his face, trying his best to crawl into the 
ground for fear he would frighten the game. Charlie 
stood below him, peering down the south side of the ridge, 
apparently looking into the lava fissures that ran off 
toward the flats. 

"For downright fiendishness and bloodlust, Charlie's 
face eclipsed anything I had ever seen. His jaws were 
set and his mouth was a straight streak, while his eyes 
glittered like the eyes of an angry snake. His gun was at 
his shoulder, and I saw that unless I got to him very 
quickly I would have the mortification of having travelled 
over three thousand miles to see a Mexican kill sheep. 
When I reached him he was still holding his point, and as 
I glanced down into the lava, about fifty yards away, 
I saw a five-year-old ram, with nice horns, with a ewe and 
a lamb. 

"While I was looking for more sheep and a better 
head, the ram sprang upon a chunk of lava, standing 
broadside and offering an easy shot. Mindful of the 
hungry mob at camp, I carefully planted a .405 ball back 



196 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

of his shoulder, and he rolled down on the rough lava. 
As the ewe and lamb started to run Charlie threw his gun 
on them, but I checked him forcibly, telling him we had 
all the meat we wanted. As I stood watching the two 
sheep bound away I heard him wailing in a mournful 
tone, *Carne bueno! Carne bueno!* (Good meat!) 

"Just then I heard a sharp exclamation from Mr. 
Sykes, and the next instant Charlie's rifle cracked. Whirl- 
ing quickly, I saw a band of four rams, two of them with 
immense heads, both larger than the one I had killed, 
running up a ridge to the south-west. By the time I 
stopped Charlie's shooting the rams had disappeared in 
the lava, but through the rain we finally made out the 
white patch on the rump of one of them. Sykes, who had 
kept his eye on them while I was laying down the law to 
Charlie, said that the white patch belonged to one of the 
largest rams; and so holding my gun for three hundred 
yards I fired a shot at it, but without results. The next 
day, when the sun was shining, I discovered that the dis- 
tance was only two hundred yards, and that I had over- 
shot. 

"Telling Sykes and Charlie to remain where they were, 
so that the sheep could see them, I slipped over to the 
north side of the ridge, and running to the west circled 
around under the summit to the south-east, to head off the 
sheep from the crater. I had determined that if the sheep 
gained the sanctuary of the crater I would respect it. 
Having hunted the big-horn on the sky-scraping northern 
Rockies, where he is as free as air, it was repugnant to me 
to kill one in a hole in the earth like a rat in a trap, where 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 197 

a club would have answered the purpose as well as a 
rifle.* 

"I had not expected to find the sheep quickly, but as 
I raised my head over a ridge I found that they had 
moved, and the leader of the band was looking for me. 
He was standing on the lava ridge across the head of that 
canon, on that pinnacle of red lava, outlined against the 
sky. At the base of the pinnacle, one to the right and 
two to the left, I could see the heads of the other rams, 
all looking directly at me. 

"Just as I dropped on my knee to shoot, the setting 
sun broke through the clouds behind me, gloriously 
bringing out all the details. The leader was standing 
almost broadside to me, his massive head accentuated by 
the deer-like leanness of his neck and body. The shining 
sun and the falling rain had formed a rainbow directly 
back of the pinnacle on which the ram stood. What a 
wonderful picture it would have made for an ^rtist like 
Rungiuslf That magnificent ram, standing like a statue 
on the pedestal of red bronze lava, washed by the falling 
rain and lit up by the setting sun; on one side a head with 
horns quite as massive as those of the central figure, on 
the other the heads of two younger rams, and the whole 
group overarched by a gorgeous rainbow! Estimating 
the distance at three hundred yards, I held slightly over 

* We were told that according to the Papago Indians, the mountain sheep of 
that region were in the habit of goin gdown into the craters to feed, and a favourite 
hunting method of the Indians was to find a herd in a deep crater having only one 
exit, and send an Indian into the abyss to scare the sheep upward. As the animals 
slowly scrambled up the steep slopes, the Indians were able to kill them with clubs. 

fSee the frontispiece, from a painting by Carl Rungius. 



198 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the shoulder of the big ram, and the big ball struck him 
fair in the heart. His legs doubled under him like a jack- 
knife and he slid off the pinnacle. Striking the rough 
lava, he turned over twice and then lay still, while his 
friends, after staring at me a few seconds, disappeared 
like shadows. 

"As I turned back and picked my way over the fissures 
and broken lava, feeling like a vandal who had destroyed 
a beautiful statue, I heard Charhe's rifle begin to bang 
like a pack of fire-crackers. When Sykes joined me where 
the big ram lay, he said that the Mexican had been shoot- 
ing at, and had perhaps wounded, one of the younger rams. 

"The horses were at the west end of the crater, so 
we sent Charlie to bring them as close as possible. I 
then photographed Mr. Sykes with the ram, and, as I 
told him the story of the rainbow, he became * powerful 
sorrowful.' We soon put the last sheep into shape so that 
it wouldn't spoil, and after tying a handkerchief to his 
horns, to keep off coyotes, we scrambled over the ridge and 
across the canon to where the other ram lay. 

" By the time we had removed the entrails from No. i 
it was quite dark; and then Mr. Sykes and I almost had a 
row. It was my opinion that a hind-quarter would be 
sufficient for camp-meat, and that we could as well get 
the remainder later on. Sykes declared that having been 
out of meat for a long time, and not having tasted any 
mountain mutton for years, he was equal to a hind-quarter 
himself. He asked whether I thought we were hunting 
worms for a nest of young robins or trying to supply meat 
for a lot of starving land pirates ? 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 199 

" I didn't think he would get very far with the hundred- 
and-fifty-pound body of that sheep, but in order not to be 
out-done, I concluded to pack in the head. Sykes swung 
the carcass to his shoulder and down into those black lava 
fissures, garnished with that devilish choya, we went. I 
led the way with an *All-ye-that-enter-here-leave-hope- 
behind' feeHng. 

"Loaded down as I was with my gun, my camera and 
the head of the sheep, the irregular chunks of lava, like 
fragments broken from a large mass of glass, punished 
my feet severely. On that steep mountain side the footing 
was so uncertain that I was afraid of falling and landing 
on a choya, and perhaps putting out an eye. I felt very 
sorry for Mr. Sykes and was afraid he would fall and hurt 
himself; so after going some little distance I checked up 
and begged him to throw down his burden until the 
morning. But that man of iron appeared to be tickled to 
death with his load of meat, and held onto it like an English 
bulldog. 

" Two or three times in that terrible descent I checked 
up and begged him to throw down the sheep and rest; 
but he replied that it would get full of choya spines, and 
that a porcupine would not be a nice thing to carry. 
Finally I lost him. 

"Returning, I found him extracting, without even 
swearing, a lot of choya spines that the dangling legs of 
the sheep had driven against him. Again forced along 
without rest by that relentless man of iron, self pity made 
me hope that he would have to give up his task, and would 
then assist me in bearing my burdens, which at every step 



200 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

seemed to be getting unbearably heavy and more difficult 
to carry. 

"Finally, after going about a mile we became bewil- 
dered in the lava beds, but after a lot of shouting we found 
Charlie and the horses tangled up in a big fissure. At 
first I thought it would be impossible to get out in the 
dark; but finally we reached camp." 

It is not to be believed, however, that during any 
interval of time we remained indiff^erent to the first big 
ram of the lava beds. He was a personage. Only the 
man who himself has gone in quest of the unknown, and 
found it, can understand the pecuHar tingling sensation 
which the first touch of that specimen imparted to our 
nerve-centres and finger-tips. For days and weeks wc 
had been asking each other, "Will we find sheep on Pina- 
cate.?" and, "If we find any, will they be Nelson's sheep 
or the Mexican species?" 

In the natural order of things, I expected Ovts nelsoni, 
the type locality of which is found in the Funeral Moun- 
tains on the bias boundary between Nevada and Cali- 
fornia. If this expectation were realized on Pinacate, the 
sheep would be of a pale salmon-pink colour, like the type 
specimens. 

One good, searching look over Mr. Phillips's splendid 
ram was enough. It had the same horns, the same white 
nose, the same body colours and white rump-patch of the 
well-known Big-Horn of Wyoming, Montana and British 
Columbia. The stature of the animal was perceptibly 
smaller, its hair was much shorter — as became a hot- 
country sheep — and its body colour was a trifle rusty from 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 201 

sunburn, but the thundering big horns, the colours and 
the whole ensemble of the animal said as plainly as print, 
" Ovis canadensis — the true, old-fashioned Rocky Moun- 
tain Big-Horn, no more, no less." 

No matter how many mexicanus lie eastward of 
Sonora, no matter how many cremnohates or what not run 
down the Peninsula westward of the Gulf, the Big-Horn 
of blessed memory goes down the eastern side of the Gulf; 
and this is It. 

On reaching my home office I made haste to compare 
the skull of a Pinacate ram with that of an Ovis canadensis 
from south-eastern British Columbia; and not one differ- 
ence could I find. 

We carefully measured that ram, with the following 
results : 

Height at shoulders 37 inches 

Length of head and body 54 " 

Tail 5 " 

Circumference behind fore leg 42^ " 

Girth of neck (unskinned) 17I " 

Height of ear 4I " 

Circumference of horn at base 15I " 

half way out 14^ 

one inch from tip 5^ 

Length on outer curve 37J " 

Distance between tips 16^ " 

Weight of sheep, entire 192^ lbs. 

That specimen was a very old one — a genuine patri- 
arch. On the previous evening Mr. Phillips had gener- 
ously offered its flesh to Charlie Foster, with which to 
make for himself the kind of dried meat called *'carne 



202 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

seco"; but Charlie had politely declined it, saying, "Me 
no want him." I wondered at this — until I handled the 
dead animal; and then I understood Charlie's extreme 
self-denial. Nothing short of a New York hash-mill, 
speeded to the limit, ever could have masticated that lean 
and tough flesh. 

The ram was so old, and so poorly off for lower incisors, 
that he was thin and bony. He carried not a pound of 
fat, and all the salient points of his pelvis were visible. 
He was the only lean-and-poor mountain sheep that I ever 
saw in the wilds, and it will be noted that his weight was 
all of fifty pounds under what it should have been. 
Fortunately, however, his pelage was all right, and his 
horns were immense; so we blithely preserved his skin 
entire for the Carnegie Museum at Pittsburgh. 

His stomach was reasonably well filled, with the fol- 
lowing: Galleta grass, palo verde, torote prieto, SphaeraU 
cea, and white brittle-bush (dead flower-stalks only). 

There was one feature of that sheep episode that was 
deeply impressive. It was the awful surroundings amid 
which those animals had chosen to live. Aside from hot 
volcanic debris, I think it is impossible to imagine any 
spot on dry terra firma that is more inhospitable, forbid- 
ding and terrible than those steep mountains of cruel red 
lava garnished with Bigelow's accursed choya. We were 
simply fascinated by the unearthly and nether-world 
character of our surroundings. Dore would have reveled 
in this scowling, contorted, wholly blasted spot. 

''Why," we asked each other, ''should any sane moun- 
tain sheep ever ignore such glorious feeding grounds as 



EXTINCT VOLCANOES AND SHEEP 203 

the granite mountains beside MacDougal Pass, or the 
meadow of galleta grass that surrounds it, and make a 
home on the hfeless lava of Pinacate ? " No predatory 
animals — not even man — drove these sheep hither for 
safety. They would be far safer on the granite summits. 
It cannot be the water in the Papago Tanks; for these 
sheep drink so seldom that the natives sometimes say most 
seriously, 

"They never drink water!" 

Mr. Phillips made some excellent photographs of the 
dead ram and its surroundings, the best of which are sub- 
mitted herewith; but no photograph ever can convey to 
the mind of one who never has seen the like an adequate 
conception of the savage grandeur and the scowling 
terrors of that scene. It was like Dante's Inferno on the 
half shell. That lava looks as clean, as fresh and as 
sharp as if it had cooled off only yesterday; and for lava 
it is very red. How it is possible for even the accursed 
choya to live upon it in summer, when the heat registers 
130 degrees in the shade, and the lava is almost sissing hot, 
only the desert botanist can tell. 

It is an uncanny country, filled with weird and awful 
things. But for the sheep and the choyas we might easily 
have imagined ourselves upon one of the blasted and dead 
landscapes of the moon. 



CHAPTER XV 

DOGS IN CAMP 

Doubtful Dog Experiments — The Troubles of Bob — The Troubles 
of Bob's Friends — A Dog with no Savvey — Rex and Rowdy — A 
Canine Glutton — Rowdy's Contract at the Papago Tanks — His 
Waterloo — The Sickest Dog on Record — The Bad Break of Rex. 

Camping with dogs is much the same as camping with 
men. It is all right if you know your dogs in advance 
and exercise an option; but when you do not, it is differ- 
ent. I am fond of dogs — in their proper place; and in 
about nine cases out of every eight, a hunter's camp is no 
place for them. Kaiser Smith, of the Canadian Rockies, 
was distinctly different; but Kaiser was a Wise One, and 
knew how to make good. 

Every proposed camp-dog is doubtful gravel until 
panned out. In a camp where skins are being preserved 
and cured, there is always the danger of poison; and Heaven 
help any hunter who, wittingly or unwittingly, poisons 
his friend's favourite dog. No one knows why it is, but 
every man, no matter how "ornery" the pup may be, loves 
his own dog and sees in him things which seem to justify 
his existence, even long after all other persons have wished 
him in the canine paradise. 

While we were trailing westward from Sonoyta, travel- 

204 



DOGS IN CAMP 205 

ling hard and doing no taxidermic work, Jeff Milton's 
dogs, Rex and Rowdy, were not at all bad. It was later 
on that they made their records. Frank Coles's Bob was a 
nuisance, nearly every waking hour, from the day that his 
front foot was run over. He was compelled to ride in one 
of the wagons, because walking was impossible for him; 
but by a most curious process of thinking, when off the 
ground he always thought that walking was quite as easy 
for him as riding! As a result, he was continually desirous 
of jumping off the load, and perpetually striving to do so. 
Lie down quietly while riding, he would not. Half the 
time some one held him forcibly, and beat him the other 
half to make him lie down. When we were travelling 
above Sonoyta, Bob wore out an average of three men per 
day. 

We thought that his first foot under a moving wheel 
would make him wagon-wise : but it did not. No sooner 
had we cured his first hurt than he immediately achieved 
a second one, similarly. How he managed the doing 
of it no one ever knew, but at all events the little mole- 
headed dog succeeded in getting his left hind leg run over, 
without being killed. The tibia was fractured, beyond 
doubt; but it might have been worse. Again we bandaged 
him up and poured on arnica, and again he blinked at us 
and wigwagged his thanks. For the next week he was 
a quiet invalid, and made no more trouble until we be- 
gan the return journey. 

Going up to Gila Bend, I thought he would drive 
Frank Coles to drink; and sure enough he did. Bob's 
lame leg No. 2 was nearly well, and every time we jumped 



2o6 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

a jack-rabbit he was wildly ambitious to jump off and 
chase it! As well might a chipmunk chase an antelope. 
Bob was held with a leash, he was held by the neck and 
ears, by injunction, by lis pendens and quo warranto pro- 
ceedings. But a hundred and fifty times per day did he 
struggle, suddenly and wildly, to get free and leap over- 
board. On about one hundred and forty of those oc- 
casions he was beaten almost to a pulp, only to come up 
smiling ten minutes later for another trial. It required 
all the time, strength and attention of one able-bodied man 
to hold that absurd little lame cur on the top of the load 
where the rest of us dwelt during the flight out of Egypt. 

Once Frank Coles said to me in a low, sad voice, like 
a man in confessional, 

"I've wished a thousand times since we started that 
I'd left him at home! He don't seem to savvey a trip like 
this even a little bit." 

In good sooth, we gave Bob too much credit at the 
off^-go, and he deceived us all. 

Of the two other dogs. Rex, the older one, was not so 
bad; but Rowdy was an unmitigated Case. He was a 
fully-grown but only half-baked pointer-cur, with a brain 
like an affectionate pet monkey and the appetite of a 
hyena. The first time I saw Mr. Milton feed him and 
Rex, he established his reputation and justified his name. 
While Rex soberly and decorously took one good mouthful 
from the pan. Rowdy made two quick passes, four gulps, 
and presto! the pan was empty! Rex looked at him re- 
proachfully, with a pained expression on his solemn 
countenance; and then we knew why the older dog's 



DOGS IN CAMP 207 

ribs were so conspicuous. Rowdy smiled genially at Rex, 
and all of us, and wagged his tail for more. No wonder 
he was fat, the gourmand. 

It was at the Papago Tanks that Rowdy met his 
Waterloo. His decline and fall began on the day that the 
first sheep were killed and brought in. With his usual 
care for their comfort, Mr. Milton gave Rex and Rowdy an 
ample civilized feed of sheep scraps. Our good friend 
Jeff was almost painfully conscientious in providing for 
the comfort of his horses and his dogs. 

With four sheep in camp to be worked into food and 
preserved specimens, meat scraps and trimmings of sorts 
began to accumulate rapidly. In that dry atmosphere, 
fresh meat remains fresh and sweet for many days. I 
had arsenic and alum, but dared not use a morsel of either 
save on the scalp of Mr. Milton's sheep, at his special 
request, because I feared an accident with some of the 
dogs. Later on, I gave myself an hourly compliment for 
having had sufficient intelligence to adopt that policy, and 
adhere to it. 

Rex was very reasonable, and knew one thing that 
thousands of human beings do not know. He knew when 
to let go ! Instead of gorging himself on sheep meat, he ate 
reasonably each day, stopped at enough, and acquired 
merit. 

But not so Rowdy. He was a dog of vaulting ambition, 
but utterly lacking in the divine sense of proportion that 
keeps dogs and men out of trouble. He undertook to 
consume all the waste mountain sheep that covered a zone 
two hundred feet wide around the camp. For days he 



2o8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

laboured at the task, early and late, and often he worked 
overtime, by moonlight. In the small hours of the morn- 
ing we used to hear the steady rasp of Rowdy's molars 
on pelvis and femur, mingling with the weird falsetto of 
envious coyotes, and then we dreamed that we were back 
in New York, listening to music on the phonograph. 

About the third day after he began operations on a 
large scale poor Rowdy became ill. As soon as it be- 
came evident that his case was serious, we began to give 
him medicine, in doses of work-horse size. He developed 
a case of fever, which looked very much like distemper, 
but fortunately was not. Our remedies made no im- 
pression upon him, and when finally we started home 
from the Papago Tanks, with Rowdy in my charge, be- 
cause his master had ridden ahead to the settlement, 
I thought he could not live to Sonoyta. Instead of 
dosing him further with medicines, I decided to try 
starving him, relying upon Nature to see him through. 
Although at first too sick to hold up his head, we gave him 
a good bed and plenty of water to drink, and at last he 
actually began to improve. By the time we reached 
Sonoyta he was decidedly better, and after our departure 
he presently recovered. For an overfed dog of any breed, 
great or small, the best medicine is starvation! 

The worst error made by Rex was on his last night 
in camp with us, at Santo Domingo. By a brilliant and 
quite unusual stroke of genius some one tied him to one 
of the wagons — a circumstance most fortunate as it proved 
— and about the only time it was ever done. Just before 
supper was served Dr. MacDougal took a lighted lantern 



DOGS IN CAMP 209 

and started to walk past the end of the wagon to which 
the dog had been tied. Like a thunderbolt out of a cloud- 
less sky, Rex sprang up and with fearful growls lunged 
forward at the Doctor, to bite him! A more savage attack 
I never saw made by a dog. Rex seemed eager to tear a 
good friend in pieces. The Doctor swung his lantern 
fairly into the jaws of the raging dog, and quickly backed 
one or two paces beyond his reach; which seemed to make 
the animal all the more angry. Had Rex been free and 
made such an attack, the results might have been very 
serious; especially to the dog in the case. 

The next day we parted company with Rex and 
Rowdy, and we shall meet them no more in this vale of 
tears. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THE CACTUS DISPLAY FROM TUCSON TO PINACATE 

Desert Plant Life More Interesting than Animal Life — The Cacti — The 
Giant Cactus — Its Culmination at Comobabi — 'Diminution South- 
ward and Westward — Structure — The Organ-Pipe Cactus — The 
Finest Specimen — 'The Barrel Cactus and Its Water Supply — A 
Demonstration Beside the Trail — Cactus Candy — Small Forms of 
Echinocactus — Bigelow's Accursed Choya — The Pain of an En- 
counter — Mr, Sykes's Accident — ^Strength of Spines — The Tree 
Choya — Opuntias — Leafless Bushes with Water-storage Stems. 

Although my leanings toward zoology are sometimes 
apparent, I am compelled to admit that, in constant and 
absorbing interest, the plant life between Tucson and the 
Gulf of California easily ranks the animal life. The latter 
is intermittent, it is very much the same as that found 
over large areas elsewhere, it contains little that is strictly 
new, and still less that is unique. Now, if one should 
find a land in which all animals are unlike the familiar 
genera, and every creature odd and startling, the plant life 
would be slighted, and we would have — another Australia! 

I defy any intelligent human being to mix up for thirty 
days with the abounding cacti of the finest region of the 
South-west without becoming keenly interested in them. 
In one way or another, each species will impress itself 
upon the traveller, until at last he feels a proprietary in- 
terest in them all. For example, Mr. Phillips has most 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 211 

tender recollection of the Bigelow choya,* and that species 
will not soon be forgotten by him. 

Far be it from my purpose to write a treatise on the 
cacti of our trip ; but I cannot refrain from attempting to 
give the Reader a few of my impressions of them. They 
were the most striking botanical features of that land of 
strange things. 

When the traveller breaks into the desert country at 
Tucson, the first plant that specially attracts his attention 
is the Giant Cactus, or Saguaro, the Mexican name of 
which is pronounced Sa.-wa/TO. It is shy of the creosote- 
bush plains, but in the ridgy and rocky piedmont country 
it is found growing in thousands. Where the rocks are 
all-pervading, and the tiny soil-pockets are few and far 
between, it modestly erects its dark-green accordion- 
plaited stem to a height of twenty feet or so, unobtrusively 
puts forth a small, short branch, and stands pat. 

I have already insinuated that in the foothills around 
Tucson the Saguaro affects the fence-post style of archi- 
tecture. In practically all the plains and so-called 
"valleys" that are given over to the exclusive use of the 
abounding creosote bush, it is, as a rule, totally absent. 
It is plainly evident that Cereus giganteus does not like 
the "creosote association." In the Avra Valley, for in- 
stance, you see not one Giant, but the moment you strike 
the mountains beyond, they abound. 

Throughout our overland trek of two hundred and 

^Opuntia higelowii. Its common name is Spanish, and is spelled choUa; but 
the United States Government has decided to spell it as it is pronounced, "choy'a," 
and that authority is good enough for me. 



212 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

twenty-five miles from Tucson to the Gulf, I watched 
closely to see where the Giant Cactus species culminates. 
It is in the vicinity of the Comobabi Mountains that they 
grow the tallest, the largest, have the greatest number of 
arms, and the largest ones. It was in an adjacent plain, 
heavily overgrown with mesquite trees, that we found the 
finest specimens. With outrageous pride I present here- 
with my photograph of the finest specimen between Tuc- 
son and Pinacate — a Giant indeed, between fifty-five and 
sixty feet high, with nine huge arms and two woodpecker 
holes. I regret that Mr. Phillips did not stand close beside 
the stem, but he was sensitive about being photographed 
with a plant so many times taller than himself. 

Beyond Wall's Well the Saguaros steadily declined 
in stature; and at Sonoyta they are only one-half the size 
they attain at Tucson. On the lava beds of Pinacate, and 
at the edge of the sand-hills, they shrink to pygmy size, 
rarely exceeding twelve feet in height, and often as low as 
seven. But it is a brave plant, especially in adversity. 
We found it on the awful lava of Pinacate, at an elevation 
of 2,500 feet, where there was not an ounce of soil. It was 
also at the bottom of MacDougal Crater, at the edge of the 
sand-hills, that sank almost to sea level. We saw only 
one species, but I am told that only a little way beyond 
monument No. 180 the larger species, Cereus Schotti, is 
found in two locaHties near the Tinajas Altas Mountains. 

The Saguaro seems to serve only two important func- 
tions — to entertain and cheer the desert traveller, and to 
furnish high places for the nests of woodpeckers. There 
is nothing about it with which to eat, drink or make; and 



A^ y t'J^-M^- o^^a i-u-i^^' 



V- 



&IW^A 






-'^■.. 






THE CACTUS DISPLAY 213 

we are very glad of it. If each stem could be made to ^^ 
yield anything marketable at a profit of fifty cents, the 
species soon would be exterminated. Arizona and the 
other states„oLcactus-land should make it punishable by 
1 1, 000 fine and ten years' imprisonment to discover any- 
thing of commercial value in Cereus giganteus. The hu- 
man race is not yet so destitute of the necessities of life "o 
that we need destroy everything that delights the eye. " 

When we saw the Saguaros of Arizona they were ready 
to burst with plenteousness. Each stem and branch is 
built on the accordion plan, with the little spine-clusters 
studding the outer angles of the plaits. When Arizona 
is long on heat and short on water the whole plant shrinks, . ^ 
the pleats close together, and the circumference diminishes. 

In a good rainy season, however, when the stem fills 
full of water, the accordion plaits expand and straighten 
out until they can expand no more. We saw the Saguaro 
at its best — after a season of abundant rain. We did not, L. \ 
however, see it in flower, for it blooms from March to 
June, and is then crowned by wreaths of white blossoms. 

It is natural for the woodpecker to love the Giant 
Cactus, and carve out nest-holes in its upper regions. 
The digging is easy, the apartment within is moist and 
comparatively cool, and there is nothing that can molest 
him or make him afraid. The bird which inhabits this 
plant is the red-shafted flicker {Colaptes cafer collaris), of 
which we saw perhaps thirty or forty individuals. 

I was much interested in the__woodj portion of the 
Giant Cactus. So far as I know, the arrangement of it is 
quite unique. Imagine, if you please, a column of cactus 



->.:>' 



214 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

pulp twenty feet high and twelve Inches in diameter utterly 
lacking means of support, visible or invisible. Imagine 
that around this there is set a compact circle of fishing- 
rods of tough white wood — smooth, perfectly uniform in 
size and about an inch in diameter. This is the woody 
skeleton of the cactus, and of course it is not visible until 
in death and decay the outer covering of the ''tree" falls 
away and exposes it. 

In the Desert Botanical Laboratory Dr. Cannon 
showed us a drawing which recorded the result of his 
studies of the root habits of the Giant Cactus. It appears 
that the roots run in all directions, for an enormous dis- 
tance, sometimes reaching fifty feet or more. They He 
very near the surface in order that after a shower of rain 
they may greedily absorb all the moisture they can reach, 
and in all haste pour it into the stem of the Giant — which 
is, after all, a sort of green-vegetable stand-pipe. 

For the past two pages I have been striving to let go of 
Cereus giganteus; but there is one other point that 
really must be mentioned. It is the everlasting variations 
of the branches. The stem is a stately and dignified 
product, and under no fair conditions does it voluntarily 
lean over, or develop a kangaroo dip, Grecian bend or 
an^ other outlandish form. It is as straight as a flag-pole. 

But not so the arms. Ordinarily they are developed 
on the candelabrum pattern; but in thousands of cases 
they cut up capers of many kinds. The total number of 
their variations in Arizona runs up into the trillions, and 
hurts one's head. They leave the parent stem at all 
possible angles; they twist and droop and cavort and 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 215 

"sasshay" in all possible directions. Sometimes they 
almost tie themselves into bow knots. It is these be- 
wildering variations — in the big specimens — which make 
them so consumedly interesting throughout the whole 
course of a long trip. The acquaintance of the Arizona 
grand army of Saguaros alone is worth the price of a trip 
to Tucson. 

I am sincerely sorry that the Average Traveller does 
not easily get in touch with the Organ-Pipe Cactus,* or 
Pitahaya. Its other English name — Candelabrum Cactus 
— is an inexcusable misnomer. The branches of an ortho- 
dox candelabrum do not spring from the base of the candle- 
stick. The Saguaro, however, would fit that name ad- 
mirably, but for one thing; it never gets the chance to 
wear it. And such is the unfitness of things in all civilized 
countries. 

West of Tucson the northern boundary of the Organ- 
Pipe is about forty miles south of the Southern Pacific 
Railway, at the Ajo Mines and the Sierra Blanca. It is 
distinctly a piedmont, or foot-of-the-mountain, species, 
and it capriciously clings to the decomposed granite at the 
foot of the mountain slopes, which it fondly imagines to be 
soil. It overlooks the lowlands of its habitat, and is itself 
well placed to be seen of men. 

Of course at its farthest north it grows small, and few- 
in-a-hill. We saw it at its best in the Sonoyta valley, 
where the giant cactus was decidedly on the wane. Dr. 
MacDougal and Mr. Phillips photographed some very 
good specimens at Sonoyta, but the giants I photographed 

*Cereus thurberi. 



2i6 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

just beyond Agua Dulce make theirs look so much Uke 
pipe-stems that I feel sensitive about showing my picture. 

Like the sailor who remained alone on a sinking ship 
in order that he might for one hour know how it felt to 
be a vessel-owner, and fabulously rich, I owned for a whole 
half-hour the finest Organ-Pipe Cactus between Tucson 
and the Gulf. It contained twenty-two stems, the largest 
of which were twenty-two inches in circumference and 
twenty feet high. The stems were formed on the same 
plan as the saguaro, and on the one nearest me I counted 
seventeen accordion plaits. The spines were short, dark 
and few in a bunch. The longest ones were only an inch 
in length, and there were about twelve in each bunch. 
The woody portion of a Pitahaya stem is solid wood, like a 
branch of a tree. 

Close beside the king clump of Organ-Pipes were two 
others almost as large, and one that was smaller. The 
stems of the large ones were so many and so thick that they 
actually cast a shade in which a Mexican or an Indian 
might have lain down and slept. And this reminds me 
that to the native the Organ-Pipe Cactus is much more 
than an interesting botanical specimen. It not only 
yields two fruit crops annually — in July and October — 
but it yields them without the slightest outlay in labour. 
The fruit is such excellent food that on the Papago bill of 
fare it is an important item; and the Bean-Eater does not 
need to look at the right-hand side of the menu in order 
to determine whether he will order it or not. 

The Barrel Cactus, or Bisnaga,* is the Traveller's 

^Echinocactus wislizeni. 




j*«^a, _ tLtfjuL. 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 217 

Friend and also the leader of a group of very picturesque 
species. As its name implies, it is as large as a small 
barrel, but far better in drawing. The pictures show its 
form and size more forcibly than could any description by 
me. It is to be noted, however, that a two-foot Bisnaga 
and a baby giant cactus of that height so closely resemble 
each other — to the careless eye — that one is easily mistaken 
for the other. 

But the adult Barrel Cactus is a vegetable to be reck- 
oned with. It is portly, dignified, deeply grooved and 
elaborately enmeshed in long, curving spines. If your 
points of the compass go wrong, Jess Jenkins will tell 
you that ^^ every Bisnaga always leans toward the south." 
In good truth, the great majority of them do lean that way 
— for sundry reasons — and those which do not are the rare 
exceptions. 

On one count the Bisnaga is to the desert wayfarer 
the most valuable plant of all cactus-land. In times of 
stress for water the man who is tortured by thirst and heat 
can draw from it a cool and copious drink of water which 
surpasses the ambrosia of the gods. In the tropics, where 
there is water to throw away, there are several plants that 
yield a copious supply. In Borneo a Dyak introduced 
me to a liana, or climbing vine, the stem of which poured 
into my cup a supply of water like the flow from a small 
faucet. 

It is easy to imagine a traveller on the Arizona desert 
with a leaky water-keg suddenly finding himself beset by 
thirst, and twenty miles from the nearest drink. Now 
in the Arizona summer a man needs about two large gal- 



2i8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Ions of water per day, and a complete cutting off of the 
supply soon spells torture. It is in the rocky foot-hills that 
the Bisnaga may most confidently be looked for; but many 
a plain or slope which produces the mesquite also is provided 
with them. 

Imagine, then, the desert-wise traveller on an August 
day, the awful heat roasting the marrow in his bones, 
burning his lungs and cracking his throat with dryness, 
arriving alongside a fine, fat and healthy Bisnaga. With 
the help of a little knowledge and a large knife a gallon of 
good water is assured. 

It was on our third day out, as we drove over the rolling, 
stony eastern foot-hills of the Carobabi Mountains that 
Dr. MacDougal briefly halted the expedition to enable 
us to drink water from a Bisnaga. With his machete — 
which is really an Iowa corn-cutter of Mexican ante- 
cedents and Connecticut manufacture — the Doctor deftly 
cut off the upper story of a fine specimen that stood beside 
the trail. The object lying upon the ground in the picture 
is not a new circular saw, as it appears to be. It is the 
inverted top of the Bisnaga, and the^whiteness of it is the 
meat which contains the water. 

From the nearest palo verde Mr. Sykes cut a section 
of smooth, green stem and formed it into a pounding- 
stick. It is necessary to choose for this purpose a tree 
that does not yield bitter wood; for with the wrong kind 
of a battering-ram the flavour of the drink might easily 
be impaired. 

At once Mr. Sykes began to attack the central surface 
of the decapitated Bisnaga with his palo verde pounder, 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 219 

and white bits of cactus-meat began to fly like sparks 
from an anvil. Several handfuls of the pulp were lost 
because there was nothing to contain them; but presently 
a cavity began to form. In this the meat was pounded to 
a pulpy mass, and in it water began to appear. The man 
whose hands were cleanest was invited to take out some 
of the waterlogged pulp and wash from his hands the 
tertiary deposit of desert drift; which was done. Then 
the clean-handed party proceeded to squeeze the pulp 
between his hands and throw it away. 

By alternate squeezings and poundings about three 
pints of white water soon was accumulated; and we were 
invited to step up in orthodox fashion and drink out of our 
hands, as do lost men on the desert. The water was sur- 
prisingly cool, a trifle sweet, and in flavour like the finest 
kind of raw turnip. I fancied that its well-defined sweet- 
ness might detract somewhat from its power to allay 
thirst, and later on I was not surprised when Dr. Mac- 
Dougal introduced us to the cactus candy, or "pitahaya 
dulce," of Tucson. 

There is only one drawback to that cactus candy. The 
supply is erratic, and at times invisible. I ransacked the 
city for candy-stores, went through them all, and the sum 
total of my quest aggregated only two paltry pounds. 
That was the whole visible supply. But what the Bisnaga 
goods may lack in quantity it makes up in delicacy. It is 
the most delicious product of the South-west, not even ex- 
cepting the preserved figs of California. If the supply 
were only constant, one might say that it is worth a stop- 
over at Tucson. 



220 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

The great Barrel Cactus was found by us from near 
Tucson to Sonoyta. At the international boundary it was 
replaced by a small relative, similar in form but of diminu- 
tive size, growing in clusters. It was most conspicuous 
on the Pinacate lava fields, where its purple-green skin 
and light gray spines were brought out in sharp de- 
tail against the dark metallic ground-work of volcanic 
debris. The species most in evidence was Echinocactus 
lecontei; and its strange, weird-looking clumps fitted in 
well with their uncanny surroundings. The deer I shot 
at Cubabi Mountain had been feeding on the fruit of this 
species. 

One species, which was found at the last moment, was 
covered with a perfect cheval-de-fnse of long, hooked 
spines of a beautiful crimson colour, and it was so much 
of a rarity that specimens were taken back to Tucson. 

The Bisnagas bear the longest spines of any of the 
Arizona or Pinacate cacti, and on some of the species they 
cover the whole exterior of the globe with a tangled mass 
that to the average wild beast is impenetrable. On the 
night when we started in to be benighted on the edge of 
the Tule Desert, and were most unwillingly rescued. Dr. 
MacDougal quickly found and brought in an Echinocactus 
emoryi about as large as a modest man's head. By 
courtesy that species is considered edible. To me, however, 
it seemed ineligible to the class of edible foods for men. 

The fruits of the barrel cactuses are much sought by 
deer and sheep — as they should be; for there is every 
reason why hoofed animals should like them. The very 
young and tender saguaro plants, two feet high, are fre- 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 221 

quently eaten near the ground, quite down to the small 
woody central stem, so that many times we found the plant 
looking like a pineapple standing on a wooden peg. 
Just what animal thus feeds on the small barrel cactus I 
could not determine to a certainty; but I suspect it was 
the jack-rabbit. This is the only way in which the giant 
cactus ever is eaten by wild animals (s. f. a. k.). 

The Choya Cactus group must be approached with 
outrageous caution. First, one may well pray to be spared 
from coming in personal touch with any of its members; 
and secondly, that in the event of contact, grace may be 
given to enable you to go on through life without using 
language. 

I have been cut, and bitten, and torn, and crushed; 
but never have I felt any other pain, great or small (save 
the violent puncturing of an ear-drum), that was as 
exquisite and nerve-searching as those made by the spines 
of Bigelow's Accursed Choya. Their entrance is very 
painful, but their exit is worse; and the aftermath is like 
rheumatism of the eye. They say that is like a very bad 
toothache, magnified one hundred diameters. 

The worst thing about that Choya is its treachery. 
In November it sheds those awful joints, and the ground 
is littered with them. They lie there like so many inno- 
cent-looking silvery chestnut burrs, rather pretty to look 
at, to be sure; but each one contains all the materials for 
serious trouble. Of course no man can adequately look 
out for them until he has suffered at least once; and in 
times of excitement they are forgotten. In accidents, of 
course, the situation is beyond control, and no one is to 



222 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

blame. In chasing a sheep, or in carrying a sheep or a 
head on a steep mountain slope, you sHp, or a foothold 
gives way, you drop a foot or two unexpectedly and — 
bang! A little spiny devil is fastened to your hand with 
a dozen or twenty spines like barbed whalebone piercing 
your unhappy flesh. 

The world stops revolving, then and there. At first 
the pain paralyzes your arm; then you hold still and pity 
yourself. If the spines in your flesh are sufficiently 
numerous and deep-seated, the pain strikes to your stom- 
ach! In a minute or so you recover your poise and enter 
the stage of apostrophe; but you find that the EngHsh 
language is weak and poverty-stricken in words which 
will do the subject even-handed justice. 

Then you gingerly dispose of your burdens, get out 
your hunting-knife — if you have one whole hand in com- 
mission — and open its longest blade. 

I invented this scheme, and the boys thought it a good 
one: thrust the blade of your knife far through the 
stickers of the Choya joint, between your flesh and the 
body of the offence. When the edge of your blade has 
secured a good hold on the Choya, give a quick and mighty 
heave outward; and, if all goes well, the spines will be 
simultaneously torn, by main strength, out of your quiver- 
ing flesh. If any remain, the tweezers you carry in your 
pocket must remove them, one by one. When they are 
torn out, the wounded spot literally cries out with all kinds 
of stinging and aching. 

When your horse picks up Choya joints on his feet or 
legs, you must halt immediately and pass a relief measure. 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 223 

For a quiet animal the knife-blade is the best thing; but 
if the joints adhere to the hind legs of a half-tamed, kicking 
mule, the situation becomes keenly interesting. Of 
course no man with a drop of sporting blood in his veins 
will let even the worst mule travel along with Choyas in 
his skin merely because of the risks involved in removing 
them. Mr. Milton once showed me what to do in such 
a case. When our worst-kicking pack-mule picked up 
three or four Choya joints on his hind legs, below the 
hocks, I was puzzled; but Jeff cut a stout mesquite branch 
about three feet long, and trimmed it so that two branches 
made a neat fork at the tip end. While I held the ani- 
mal very firmly by the head, Jeff spoke soothingly to 
it, slowly manoeuvered along its side, placed the fork 
of his stick close against the nearest cactus joint, and 
with a sudden fierce thrust it was deftly dislodged. The 
mule flinched, but otherwise took the matter rather 
calmly. 

" I guess he savveys the reason for it, all right enough," 
observed Mr. Milton; and in a very short time the ani- 
mal's legs were free. 

Mr. Sykes once dwelt with amused interest on his 
mishap when carrying that second mountain sheep down 
an awfully steep lava mountain garnished with Bigelow 
Choyas. He nearly had a bad fall, and in saving himself 
his clenched hands drove against a lot of Choya joints 
that lay scattered upon the lava. Both hands were so 
filled with them that one hand could not free the other; 
but finally he used his teeth to liberate one hand and get 
it into working order. 



224 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Bigelow's Choya belongs to the same genus as the 
prickly-pear, but the two look not in the least alike. It 
is low in stature, usually under three feet in height, and by 
its short, stocky joints, growing one upon another, you 
may know the genus to which it belongs. It has a pro- 
nounced stem, upon which grow many branches as long 
as your finger — no matter which finger you choose — each 
of which is studded with an enveloping mass of long, 
whitish-green spines. The spines are flattened, seemingly 
as strong as whalebone, and of incredible persistence. 

In November the branch-like joints, each a solid mass 
of spines, drop off the parent stem and He thickly on the 
ground below. Beware of them, standing or sitting. The 
spines will go through the side of an ordinary shoe almost 
as if it were manila paper. If you wear horse-hide shoes, 
with soles a trifle soft and flexible, a Choya joint well 
trodden upon will thrust its stickers into your sole, and 
hang on while you walk away with it. Rake it over a 
chunk of lava, and at first there is no result. Finally, 
when you smash off the main body of off^ence, a lot of the 
spines will remain, independently, until your travel liter- 
ally grinds them to pulp. That process is not wholly 
without its compensations. It seems Hke getting square 
with Bigelowii. 

We found this interesting plant from Tucson to the 
south end of MacDougal Pass, and thence all over the lava 
field to the very top of Pinacate. 

The Tree Choya* is more of a wonder and less of a 
curse than Bigelow's. As we saw it, its average height 

Opuntia versicolor. 




\:Mi':fyM0^vl^ 



Bigelow's Choya — Opimtia Bigelowi 




From a photograph by D. T. AlacDougal 

A Broad-Leafed Prickly Pear {Optintia), at Sonoyta 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 225 

was between five and seven feet, but I am told It grows as 
high as ten feet in the clear. A fine specimen in Mac- 
Dougal Pass is shown herewith, and it may well be re- 
garded as typical of the species. It might very well have 
been named the Wren Choya, because it is the species 
so much beloved of the cactus wren. In the fastnesses 
of the Opuntia's spine-covered branches, the wren builds 
its nest, and in peace and comfort rears its brood. It 
fears neither hawk, coyote, fox, nor serpent, for its fortress 
is impregnable. We saw at least two score of nests, often 
so judgmatically placed in the centre of dense masses of 
thorny stems as make their occupants perfectly secure 
from all attack. And let no man insult the intelligence 
of that bird by asserting that this selection of a protected 
nesting-site is a mere mechanical process, devoid of reason; 
for if he does, few persons of intelligence will believe him. 

The stem of the Tree Choya is peculiar, in that it 
is covered with a network of small green pustules. The 
interior is bounded by a cylinder of hard wood of most 
pecuHar pattern — chased all over on the outside, and full 
of elliptical holes set in most orderly array. Of course 
we opine that each external pustule corresponds with a 
hole in the woody stem. When a Tree Choya dies, both 
its pulpy outer surface and its centre decay and disappear 
and there remains standing only the woody skeleton of the 
tree. This stands for months longer, until the wood 
bleaches to a clean light-gray colour, and then it looks like 
a tree of carved fretwork. 

The spines of this Choya are mild in comparison with 
those of the Bigelow species, and its joints are not ghastly 



226 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

traps that lie In wait for the unwary. Their fleshy exterior 
naturally suggests food for wild animals. 

Of flat Opuntias (Prickly Pears) we saw very few. 
Nowhere did they spread for yards over the helpless earth 
in a thorny and horrid mat, as in Montana, cordially 
hated by man and beast. The few specimens that we 
saw were large-jointed, stately and immaculate, as if 
knowingly on exhibition. Of the twenty or thirty known 
species we saw perhaps half a dozen in all. The most 
interesting Opuntia record was a fine plant found at 
Sonoyta by Dr. MacDougal (figured herewith), that 
proved to be a new and undescribed species. 

I have already mentioned the Opuntia which the 
Doctor found serenely growing upon the tip-top of a large 
giant cactus, and promptly pictured for the general good. 
Of course it sprang from a seed that was carried to that 
high point by some bird, and by a combination of fortui- 
tous circumstances successfully germinated. And what a 
fine opportunity it offers for a nature-fakir's marvel! 

We saw many interesting cacti of small size, singly 
and in clusters, but it is difficult to transfer that interest 
to a printed page, in reasonable limits. Of greater inter- 
est than they were the All-Thorn Bushes with large, 
fleshy stems for the storage of water, and many thorns 
but no leaves. This very queer plant is well shown in 
Mr. Phillips's photograph — a cubic yard of naked stems 
and angles. 

Many of the desert plants have developed large, soft 
stems for the quick receipt and long storage of water by 
which to sustain life during the long and dreary hot months 



THE CACTUS DISPLAY 227 

of summer, when the rainfall is reduced to an irreducible 
minimum. The thick-stemmed shrubs offer of themselves 
alone an interesting study — abundant food for thought, 
but none for stomachs of flesh and blood; for they are 
mostly so bitter and pungent that no animal can eat them. 



CHAPTER XVII 

A JOURNEY OVER THE LAVA AND ANOTHER TO THE GULF 

Work on Specimens — Arroyos — Awful Lava Ridges and Lava Plains — 
Mutiny in the Line — The Gulf of California — Two Antelopes 
Killed on a Lava Plain — The Highway to Pinacate — The Tula 
Tanks, Sans Tales — Our Camp — Mr. Sykes Goes to the Gulf. 

The day after the trip to the Sykes Crater, and the 
bringing in of the sheep, was for me a busy one. The 
complete skin of the big ram was made up for the Carnegie 
Museum; there were three heads to skin and sheep meat 
to cure to the Hmit of half the visible supply. The Boys 
gathered lava boulders and built for me, against the foot 
of the steep lava hill, a fine standing-up table on which 
I could work to excellent advantage. Since the advent 
of the grim spectre called Mastoiditis, there is for me no 
more working on the lap of Mother Earth. 

I am very partial to a permanent camp, around which 
one can gyrate and explore galore, with a new programme 
for each day. We would blithely have remained at the 
Papago Tanks for a week, exploring their environs, but 
were denied that pastoral pleasure. Pinacate Peak was 
still ten miles away, over a terribly rough course, and on 
the direct course there was not a suspicion of water be- 
tween. We were therefore compelled, like the Wandering 

228 



A JOURNEY OVER THE LAVA 229 

Jew, to move on; and after a long, hard day on those 
specimens we made up a light pack train the next morn- 
ing and moved out. We left behind us Jess Jenkins, 
George Saunders and all those infernal dogs. 

Charlie Foster had been told by a Papago Indian that 
there was a lava water-hole, or "tank," somewhere to the 
westward of Pinacate Peak, and that by going down to a 
certain group of granite mountains at the edge of the sand- 
hills, and tacking back again over an old Indian trail, we 
might find it. The distance over that V-shaped course 
might be fifteen miles, or it might be twenty. And so, 
with unspoken reluctance, we mounted our horses, drove 
out the pack animals and set forth on what we hoped 
would be our last circumpolar march. 

Instead of going south-eastward toward Pinacate, we 
headed due south — always and everlastingly away from 
our goal! But as usual, no one said aught against it — 
until later. 

After leaving the Papago Tanks, the Papago arroyo, 
or barranca — whichever name may be preferred — rapidly 
widened into a bed of loose sand as wide as the Sonoyta 
River at the Santo Domingo crossing. Its low and level 
banks were covered with dense jungle of the standard sort, 
which surely would have contained deer but for the Papa- 
goes of lang syne. Finally, however, we left that com- 
fortable valley and climbed over a huge ridge of lava so 
upheaved, so contorted and so awful as to baffle both 
camera and description. Neither can do it justice, any 
more than a lens can catch and record the spirit of a mean 
man. An old, disused trail led along our way, without 



230 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

which we surely would have had a purple time of it getting 
over that unparalleled roughness. 

There were hills and valleys a-many, of piled-up hell- 
fire suddenly grown cold. The lava glowered and scowled 
at the heavens and dared us to come on. In places it was 
red, but mostly it was shiny Vandyke-brown. In places, 
great ragged slabs of sheet-lava stood on edge. Our horses 
gingerly picked their way through it and over it, taking 
excellent care to stick closely to the trail. In the worst 
of the lava there was practically no vegetation — just 
blasted ridges, ragged hollows and cinder-covered hills 
at which wild-animal life draws the line. 

In the midst of the most awful of those lavascapes 
I halted and tried to secure a sample picture; but the 
result is unavailable. The photograph shows only a 
fearful jumble of chaotic details, black and terrible, but 
inadequate. 

After leaving that blasted region, we emerged upon a 
great lava plain six or seven miles in width, over which 
our progress was much easier. The character of it is 
well shown in the picture of Mr. Jeff Milton and his 
antelope. Presently, we sighted a group of very sharp, 
saw-tooth granite mountains at the edge of the sand-hills, 
dead ahead. 

We rode, and rode, and rode ; steadily going away from 
our mountain goal. At last the situation became intoler- 
able; and being near the rear of the column, to help drive 
the sorrel pack-mule, I halted for Mr. Sykes to come up. 

"Mr. Sykes, do you know how much farther we are 
likely to go in this direction ? " 



A JOURNEY OVER THE LAVA 231 

"Charlie says the trail leads around that group of 
mountains, ahead of us." 

"Heavens! Is It possible! We will then be several 
miles farther from PInacate than we now are, and no 
better off!" 

Then Mr. Sykes burst forth — a sunburned human 
volcano. 

"It's the most Idiotic way to get to a mountain that 
I ever saw anybody take. / think that the way to get to 
a mountain Is to go to it, not away from It ! 

"The course we are steering Is getting on my nerves. 
There is nothing to hinder our crossing this plain In any 
direction we choose. Yonder Is a good, broad highway 
leading straight to the top of PInacate; and there must 
be water in that valley, somewhere. Let's ride up and 
speak to the Doctor.'* 

The spirit of rank mutiny which thus reared Its head 
ran along the line until It overtook Dr. MacDougal. Up 
to that moment none of us ever had offered even a sug- 
gestion regarding our routes and camps. 

"Doctor, why is Charlie leading us this long goose- 
chase down to the sand-hills and away from PInacate, 
when we can just as well make a cut-off, straight toward 
it?" 

"I've been wondering about that myself," said the 
Doctor, promptly. Then he raised the voice of authority. 
"Hello! Charlie! We're not going any farther on this 
trail. It's taking us where we don't want to go. Lead 
off here to the left and let's go toward PInacate instead of 
away from It!" 



• 



232 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

" But with no trail," said Charlie, *' maybe no find Tula 
Tanks! Qiiien sabe?"* 

"We'll take our chances on finding water somewhere 
before night," answered the Doctor, resolutely. 

**Bueno," said Charlie, quietly and respectfully; and 
as he led ofl^ sharply to the left, we once more rode toward 
our goal, instead of away from it. We were then due 
north-west of the mountain. Instead of describing a letter 
V to reach our goal, with its nose in the sand-hills and 
miles out of our way, we turned it into a capital A, and 
started to traverse the cross-bar. 

Our average altitude must then have been about one 
hundred feet above sea level. All about us was the black- 
brown lava plain, in general not at all bad to travel over 
by picking one's way, but cut by numerous lava-rock 
gulleys, and occasional ridges of the roughest lava on 
earth. There was not a pound of earth visible anywhere, 
but on the plains the lava had decomposed sufficiently to 
form a good solid bed of reasonable smoothness, which I 
suppose is fairly entitled to rank as earth. Of sand there 
was so very little that I remember none whatever. On 
those lava plains, as we may rightly call them, the particles 
of lava often resemble coarse gravel, thinly strewn; but 
these areas are always surrounded by beds of coarser 
material, Hke furnace coal six inches deep, over which 
horses make their way with difficulty. 

Looking westward, off our starboard quarter as it 
were, the lava plains went undulating down for three or 
four miles to where they met the Httoral sand-hills, and 

♦Pronounced "keen sav'vy"; meaning "who knows?" 



A JOURNEY OVER THE LAVA 233 

ended very abruptly. The waves of clean, yellow sand 
rolled westward for ten miles farther, and beyond that 
fearful shore glistened the placid waters of the Gulf of 
California. We were directly opposite the most eastern 
point of Adair Bay. Across the Gulf, seventy miles away, 
loomed up a huge and lofty mountain mass, called by so 
many different names that it is difficult to pick the winner. 
Dr. MacDougal and Mr. Sykes say that its eastern face 
is a perpendicular wall that for miles and miles at a stretch 
is unscalable, even for a man on foot. During the whole 
of our stay in the region due west of Pinacate, the pano- 
rama of the Gulf and Adair Bay was ever spread before 
us — a sheet of frosted silver fading away into horizon haze. 

Once while our sinuous serpent of horsemen and pack 
animals wound its way along a smooth lava ridge, the 
leaders suddenly halted and fell back in some confusion. 

"Antelope! A bunch of antelope!" said Mr. Milton, 
visibly agitated. "Over there, on the other side of that 
arroyo!" 

"Go quickly. Doctor!" we said to our leader. 

Flinging himself off his horse, and bidding Frank 
Coles come with him. Dr. MacDougal lost not a moment 
in stalking the animals. There were five of them, a 
quarter of a mile away, on the farther side of a ragged 
ravine of lava thinly sprinkled with desert trees. 

But the antelopes were very wide awake; and not 
liking the looks of our party, they ran, long before the 
leader came within shooting distance. Even before they 
started, however, Charlie Foster went on record with a 
contribution of hunter's wisdom. He said to Mr. Milton, 



234 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

"Go on ahead! They cross ahead — over there — and 
maybe you can shoot." 

Mr. Milton instantly acted on this hint, and as the 
animals started to run he galloped straight forward on our 
course. On the nose of our ridge he dismounted and ran 
forward, rifle in hand. 

True to Charlie's prediction, the prong-horn band 
circled, and finally halted within gunshot. Mr. Milton 
fired twice in quick succession, and killed both the bucks 
of the bunch, neatly and thoroughly. 

Naturally, we examined the trophies with keen inter- 
est. Their horns of 1907 had been shed about two 
months previously (let us say between September 15th and 
October ist), and the new editions were still quite im- 
mature. The prongs were but slightly developed, and the 
hair still covered the lower half of each horn. It should 
be stated here that on no other animal is the conversion 
of hair (the true horn material) into horn so visibly mani- 
fest as on a new horn of Antilocapra. In one good look 
you can see the whole process. 

One of those bucks had a mane that had developed 
as a queer little semicircular crest of reddish hair, standing 
two inches high by about six inches long on the base. But 
it was not repeated on the other male antelopes that were 
killed on the trip, and it must be noted as an individual 
character only. 

We were greatly pressed for time, because our future 
was so uncertain, and we dared not linger over those 
specimens. It was impossible to carry them with us 
while we searched for water, so we chose the best specimen, 





























1 ^ i 


,.^_ 












'// 


^M..-*" "">H^^ 












f 




M 


mml 


1i 


h^ 


%>.„. 


jg^- 


■■HHIfl 




*' 


^Br 




^ 


pi 


inn 




u 






a«iP^^ 


iyi 






^illL. 






^1 


^V^^'- 


ll 



From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

Mr. Milton Kills Two Antelopes on the Lava 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

Mr. Sykes and the Carnegie Ram on the Red Lava Peak 



A JOURNEY OVER THE LAVA 235 

, quickly measured and eviscerated it, then hung it as high 
P as we possibly could in a stout mesquite tree that grew 
in the arroyo near by. We said we would "send back 
after it"; but in my mind I bade it farewell, for it seemed 
|} almost impossible that we ever should see it again. Mr. 
Sykes asked for the head of No. 2, which was promptly 
allotted to him. While he cut off the specimen, the rest 
of us took the hind-quarters for meat, and ten minutes 
later we were again on our way. 

Straight toward mysterious, elusive old Pinacate, at 
last; and not so very far away! Leading directly from 
us to the top of the mountain there lay a broad, valley- 
like depression, seemingly half a mile wide, which was 
entirely free from lava peaks, and looked like our Highway. 
I could not call it anything else than that — but Heaven 
help any wheels that ever try to traverse it! They will 
wish they had never been born. 

On both sides of the highway volcanic peaks and 
lofty ridges are massed up. The open sweep upward ends 
abruptly in a narrow notch, beyond which is a valley of 
unknown depth and width. Beyond that rises two peaks, 
and it is plain that the one toward the north is the peak of 
Pinacate. 

An hour before sunset we came to a very deep arroyo, 
cut down through the lava field, thirty feet sheer; and it 
lay across our course. It came from higher up on Pina- 
cate and went south-westward. Almost at the very point 
where we struck it, we found — the Tule Tanks! And 
right there we camped, properly thankful for our luck. 
"Tule" is pronounced tu'lee, and it means "marsh"; 



236 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

but at that point we seemed very far removed from all 
marshes. 

It v^as a wild spot for a camp — out in the open, no 
landmark near it, and difficult to find. Luckily I took 
good care to note its bearings with reference to the nearest 
peaks, and once later on we found the camp when other- 
wise it might easily have been lost in the darkness and 
we might have been compelled to *'lie out" all night. 

On reaching the tanks we found them full of water, 
lying at the foot of a thirty-foot wall of rock, up which we 
hauled our camp water in a canvas pail, at the end of a 
lariat. We unsaddled with all haste, and when all was 
clear Mr. Milton and Charlie took the whole bunch of 
horses and started toward the sand-hills, to look for galleta 
grass. We were on the anxious seat until they returned, 
two hours later, with the news that they had " found grass 
that would do," and set the herd into it. After that we 
settled down contentedly to develop the Future to its 
utmost limits. 

Several times while in that camp I was impressed by 
the puny insignificance of our party in comparison with 
the great manifestation of Nature around us. Everything 
was on a scale so grand and awful that our personality as a 
party did not seem to amount to shucks. So far as Nature 
was concerned, we seemed about as important as so many 
jack-rabbits, but not much more. Our camp "cut no 
figure" whatever. When returning to it we never could 
see it until we were almost ready to fall over it. 

Had we not found water in that arroyo, or near it, 
we would have camped dry until morning, then fled back 



A JOURNEY OVER THE LAVA 237 

to the nearest liquid, with all possible haste. Had we 
not found it, we would have ''busted Pinacate'' just the 
same ; but we would have had a mighty lively time carry- 
ing in water on our pack-horses, and doling it out by metre 
until our ends had been accomplished. The supply for 
ourselves would have been manageable, but with horses, 
every water-carrier is a serious problem on account of the 
large supply absolutely needed for him. And so, again I 
say to all those who may be tempted to view Lavaland from 
the top of Pinacate — be sure you are right about your 
water supply, then go ahead. Remember that, for the 
average white man of the North, thirty-six hours without 
water is about the living limit. 

Naturally, we speculated much on the proposed trip 
across the sand-hills to the waters of the Gulf of California. 
At first we all intended to make the trip ; and it was fully 
conceded that it must, perforce, be made on foot. But 
as the sands of our time-limit rapidly ran out, and we 
counted up the available days remaining, my mind was 
quickly made up. I broke the news to the Leader, very 
gently, in this wise: 

"Doctor," I said, "for me, the shore of the Gulf at 
this particular point has few zoological attractions. The 
shore is marshy; it would take a day to reach it, and a day 
to return, carrying everything on our backs. For me, the 
results would be meagre. If I may be excused, I think 
I will watch the rest of you make the journey while I hunt 
mountain sheep." 

The expected happened. The bare idea of giving up 
two glorious days of mountain-sheep hunting for a hot and 



238 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

tiresome tramp through ten miles of loose sand, to a 
muddy old foreshore with nothing upon it, was too much. 
Gulf Coast stock dropped eighty points, with a hard thud. 
But the Doctor protested that he did want to see the botan- 
ical features of those sand-hills; and Mr. Phillips vowed 
that he must have a bath in the Gulf. Mr. Sykes said, 

"Well, I simply must go, to test my aneroid at sea 
level, in order to get my elevations correct. For me, there 
really is no option." 

In the end, the Geographer was the only man who 
went; and the rest of us spent our time in other pursuits. 
One night, at tea-time, Mr. Sykes was totally missing. 
No one had seen him since morning, when he was observed 
running loose on the lava field toward the west, dragging 
his lariat. When late bedtime (eight o'clock) came with- 
out bringing him, some Wise One exclaimed, 

*'ril bet anything he's gone to the Gulf!" 

And sure enough, he had ! About one o'clock that after- 
noon, while wandering over the lava, mapping and measur- 
ing peaks, he said to himself, in genuine English style, 

"It's a fine day; I'll go to the Gulf this afternoon!" 

Without further parley, or a word to any one, off he 
started. He tramped that whole round trip, eight miles 
of it on lava and ten miles in loose sand, in about thirteen 
hours. It' was about half-past one in the morning when 
he jauntily tramped up to camp, helped himself to some 
fragments of cooked food that the rest of us had carelessly 
overlooked, and slipped into his sleeping-bag. 

The next morning he rose with the rest of us, as lively 
and debonair as any of us, and quite as ready for the 



A JOURNEY OVER THE LAVA 239 

doings of the day. This is what he told us about his trip 
and its results: 

"W^hen I left camp yesterday morning, I went over 
to the big lava butte to the west, climbed it and took a lot 
of sights, and then, as it was still early, I thought I would 
go down to sea level with my aneroid, so as to get a check 
on my readings on Pinacate. From the top of my butte 
I picked out what looked to be a fairly easy route across 
the sand-hills, set my pedometer and started. My selected 
route first led me diagonally across the playas toward the 
sand, then more or less of a zigzag course through the 
sand-hills, and after that straight for the shore of the Gulf. 
I estimated my distance from the shore-line to be from 
fifteen to twenty miles, and this proved to be fairly correct; 
for from the time of leaving the top of the butte until I got 
back into camp, my pedometer tallied forty-three miles. 

*'The sand-hills averaged about five miles across, and 
in them the walking is very bad. The Gulf front of these 
hills is a clear-cut line, and the highest dunes are close 
to this eastern edge. 

*' Once through the sand, my course lay straight across 
some galleta grass flats toward some bare-looking saladas 
that I could see from the tops of the dunes. The walking 
was now very good, and by sundown I was probably two- 
thirds of the way from the sand to the shore. The full 
moon rose over Pinacate about dusk, and so I had plenty 
of light. 

" I soon reached the tide flats, got down as far as salt 
water, corrected the scale of my aneroid and started back 
to camp. I had determined to make, on my way back, a 



240 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

detour toward the south, through the sand-hills, as my 
last sight in that direction from the frontal dune had 
shown me a better route than the one I had followed in 
going toward the shore. 

*'I got through without any difficulty, steering by the 
ten stars, and as I had a latch-key to my own particular 
sleeping-rock at the Tule Tanks, I knew that none of you 
would be sitting up waiting for me. I must say, however, 
that you all had disgustingly hearty appetites at supper, for 
there was mighty little left to eat. 

"The net zoological result of my pasear was a few 
little birds of unknown species, a jack-rabbit or two, one 
coyote and a little coiled-up rattlesnake evidently suffering 
from the chilly night air. I put my hand on the snake, 
thinking it was a shell, and never discovered what kind of 
snake it was until, as he slid through my fingers, I felt his 
rattles! At that I bid him a hurried adieu and left him 
to find warmer quarters. 

*'The coastal plain beyond the sand is wonderfully 
level and covered with fine galleta grass, except on the 
saladas. The line of sand-hills stretches away in what 
seems to be an unbroken line, as far as one can see, both 
north and south." 

Mr. Sykes collected at tide-water, and brought back 
to me the following shells: 

Murex (Phyllonotus) hecki. Phil. 

Area pacifica. Sow. 

Pectunculus gigantea. Rve. 

Cardium (Trachycardium) procerum. Sow. 

Ostrea lurida. Carpenter. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

A GREAT DAY WITH SHEEP ON PINACATE 

A Scattered Party — The Distant "Cut Bank" — View from i,ooo Feet 
Elevation — ^A Lost Aneroid and a Maze of Coat-pockets — The 
Choya Peak — Hard TraveUing for Human Feet — ^Two Sheep 
Sighted — A Run for Them — Bad Shooting and a Badly Rattled 
Sportsman — Mr. Phillips Apologizes for Killing His "Bunger" — 
Chase of a Wounded Ram — Success at Last — Moonrise Over 
Pinacate Peaks — The Lava Field by Moonlight. 

The nineteenth of November was a day of many 
sensations. As I look back upon it, it is fairly impossible 
to decide whether I should feel deeply mortified or highly 
amused by the folly of the main performance. The 
Reader will cheerfully decide that point. 

The Leader, Mr. Phillips and I unanimously decided 
that the day should be devoted to hunting mountain sheep. 
The fact that neither the Botanist nor the Zoologist had 
yet scored on a "borego" was irritating to the nerves of 
the camp, and we decided that we must immediately allay 
the annoyance of hope deferred. 

Mr. Milton early announced his intention to go to the 
horse herd, and re-locate it on better grass ; and since he 
could not accompany any of us, we then decided, as one 
man, that Charlie Foster should improve the shining hour 

by going back after the dead antelope — precisely in the 

241 



242 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

opposite direction from our sheep hunting. That would 
keep him out of mischief for the day, and we would be 
free to hunt sheep all alone. Dr. MacDougal invited 
Frank Coles to accompany him, and they set off south- 
eastward from camp, on the south side of the Highway. 

Left to our own devices, Mr. Phillips and I decided 
to go up the Highway straight toward what seemed like 
a lofty, triangular cut bank, of a decided red colour, a little 
to the north of the Highway. We had some curiosity 
about that "cut bank," but immediately beyond it there 
rose a collection of peaks which we felt might contain 
sheep, provided any Ovis inhabited the middle slopes of 
Pinacate. 

A three-mile tramp across a very interesting lava 
plain brought us to an isolated extinct volcano which rose 
a little to the northward of our course; and as in duty 
bound we called upon it. It was very imposing, very 
rough and admirably adapted to the wants of sheep, but 
no sheep were there; so on we tramped toward our "cut 
bank." 

On a commanding ridge we sat down with our backs 
against some angular chunks of red lava, to rest our feet 
and scan the cones with our glasses. Mr. Phillips took 
out his fine new aneroid barometer, to ascertain the eleva- 
tion, and it happened to be, as nearly as possible, i,ooo 
feet. We feasted our eyes on Adair Bay and the Gulf, 
on the sand-hills, the granite mountains far away west- 
ward and the miles upon miles of lava, then pulled our- 
selves together to resume our quest. As we rose, Mr. 
Phillips replaced his aneroid in one of the many pockets 



A GREAT DAY WITH THE SHEEP 243 

of his sleeveless hunting coat — pocket No, 17, he said 
later on — and his field-glasses were cached in No. 9. 

Now that hunting coat was a wonder, purchased in 
Tucson, at the suggestion of our Leader — whose only fault 
lies in the possession and use of one on the deserts. In 
looks that garment is a tailor's atrocity, no less. Mr. 
Phillips's edition had twenty-three pockets (I think that 
is the correct number), around, beneath and on high. 
The whole outer surface of the garment, from the collar 
down, was completely undermined by them, and had they 
only been connected, like the underground chambers of 
the kangaroo rat, they would have made an impregnable 
system. The coat was a wonder, because when once you 
had deposited something in one of its pockets, you were 
kept wondering where it was, and whether you ever 
would find it again. It was a disreputable coat to look at, 
because its armholes were much too large and entirely 
too low, and too much of it hung below the equator of 
the wearer. 

Half a mile beyond our resting place, Mr. Phillips 
began to look for his aneroid once more, in anticipation of 
using it later on. He always began to hunt for things 
about a quarter of an hour before using them. 

"I know I put that thing in No. 17," he said at last, 
in an aggrieved tone, "but it isn't there." 

"Go on," I said, "Hunt for it! You've got it, some- 
where." 

He had not explored more than half of them, but the 
search that he made through that maze of pockets made 
me dizzy. Finally he said, wearily, 



244 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

*'I can't find it. But I may have missed some of 
them. . . . See if you can find it." 

I went through those pockets, in and out, over and 
under, playing hide and seek until my head swam; but 
no aneroid was found. 

"I'm afraid I've lost it," said John. 

*'Well, if you have, we can find it in fifteen minutes. 
Let's search for it on the lava." 

We hunted, high and low, both near and far. I 
thought I could find it in ten minutes, but we found it not 
at all; and after losing a precious half-hour or more, we 
had to give it up. John M. was greatly annoyed; but 
even to this day I do not sorrow as one who has no hope. 
I believe that aneroid will yet be found in one of the 
burrows of that multipocket coat. 

At last we reached our supposed cut bank, and it 
turned out to be a perfect cone of ashes and fine red lava. 
It is about seven hundred feet in height from its base; but 
not for worlds would I climb to its top to measure it. 
From bottom to top it is completely infested with Bigelow's 
accursed choya, thousands of them, sprinkled all over 
those steep sides and standing so thickly that a man can 
scarcely pass between them. As you look up the moun- 
tain side toward the sun, the light shining through those 
millions of clear, white spines gives the slope a frosted ap- 
pearance. Almost invariably they are low growers, sel- 
dom being more than knee high; and the fine, loose lava 
seems to encourage their reproduction. 

It being in our route, we started to make a cut-off 
across the northern foot of the Choya Cone, but it was 



A GREAT DAY WITH THE SHEEP 245 

impossible to get on without occasionally ploughing down 
through the loose material, against our will. 

"Here," said Mr, Phillips; "this won't do! We must 
get off here before we have a shp, and come to grief on 
these choyas. We're here to hunt sheep, not to pull 
cactus spines out of each other." 

At once we turned abruptly down hill and got off the 
side of tha-t dangerous cone by the shortest route. 

It was here that we entered the roughest, wildest 
and most awfully unheaved volcanic region that we saw 
on the trip. There was a bewildering maze of deep 
valleys, high ridges, mounds and mountains, all of them 
covered with the roughest lava to be found an3rwhere 
under the sun. Every square yard of it was horrible. 
There were dozens of ravines which no horse could cross, 
even under an empty saddle, with a rider on foot to lead 
the way. The slightest fall in that stuff would cut a man's 
knees and hands most cruelly. While our horse-hide 
shoes with flexible soles took us over the lava without any 
slipping, the roughness of it wrenched and strained our 
feet and ankles severely. A man with big, strong feet 
had a decided advantage over a small-hoofed individual. 

Once I stepped heavily with the half-protected arch of 
my foot squarely across a sharp edge of lava that was like 
a spade sticking up; and it hurt me keenly. The sharp 
pain of the impact was nothing to heed particularly at that 
moment, but unluckily it remained with me all that day, 
and during the next ten miles of travel it was a great 
nuisance. 

But it was a glorious day. As we gingerly picked our 



246 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

way forward, we looked back many times at the panorama 
spread out below. Presently we reached what we were 
sure was an elevation of two thousand feet (which was 
right), and the bird's-eye view of the lava-field and its 
surroundings became genuinely fascinating. It was all 
so weird and uncanny we could not keep our eyes from it 
for long at a time. As we ascended, the strip of sand- 
hills became narrower and narrower, and the glassy 
waters of the Gulf seemed to come nearer. Our camp 
spot was completely lost. It was impossible to locate it, 
save in general terms. 

We hunted carefully, but saw no sheep, nor signs of 
sheep. For hours we had been steadily working into the 
heart of the roughest lava mountains in sight — and quite 
rough enough they were, too! At last we began to fear 
that in coming into such a blasted place we had overdone 
the situation; for why should mountain sheep, that usually 
love luxury, choose to live in such a petrified hell as that ? 
So we both said, 

** Let's go on to yonder red peak, and if we don't find 
sheep by that time, we may as well look elsewhere." 

We toiled painfully up the side of a great ridge, and 
as we reached its summit we scanned the new prospect 
with a sheep-hunter's usual caution. I chanced to be in 
the lead. The farther side of the ridge dropped to a con- 
siderable valley, which ran down rather steeply for a 
quarter of a mile to our right, where it joined another 
valley that came down at right angles from somewhere 
higher up. As we paused behind a stunted mesquite, 
hunting just as carefully as if there were a hundred sheep 



A GREAT DAY WITH THE SHEEP 247 

within range, our eyes swept the lava valley in front of us, 
from its head to its lower end. And then I saw two 
somethings — as big as cattle — so they seemed. 

"Look yonder! Two sheep! Rams, both of them! 
Merciful powers! Look at that head of horns!" 

That was the only time in my life that I ever said 
"head of horns"; but that head seemed to be all horns! 
As the leader of the two rams walked slowly into the other 
valley and disappeared behind the nose of the opposite 
ridge, he held his head low, as if his horns were so heavy 
that he could scarcely carry them. 

We crouched behind our bush until the sheep were 
out of sight; then we did things. We saw that we had to 
run down our ridge and up the next one — a good half 
mile in all — to reach a point from which we might hope 
to see the rams again, and within rifle-shot. With un- 
blushing effrontery, I took off the party canteen, half 
filled with water, and without a word handed it to John. 
Without even a wink of protest he put it on, over his 
camera. Then, feeling that it was my bounden duty to 
kill one of those rams and thereby relieve the tension of 
the party, I set off down the ridge-side as hard as I could 
run, with Mr. Phillips close behind. 

We went down that ridge without a tumble, and at 
full speed raced up the other. That was my only credit- 
able performance, in that I did not fall down and break 
something. In what was really very quick time, we cov- 
ered that half mile and reached the top of the ridge below 
which we expected to find the two old "hungers." It was 
right there that the mistakes of Moses began. 



248 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

I was out of breath, and entirely too confident. Feel- 
ing that we had a "cinch" on those sheep, and that they 
were just the same as skinned and hung up, my advance 
over the top was too rapid and incautious. For one thing, 
I feared that they might be already far beyond us. Hur- 
riedly I overlooked the visible portions of the valley of 
big lava chunks and scattering mesquite bushes, but saw 
not the sheep. Scanning everything in sight, and fully 
expecting to see the sheep before they saw me, I advanced 
over the top of the ridge. Mr. Phillips saw one of the 
sheep behind a mesquite bush, down at the bottom of 
the valley, looking up at us, and he tried hard to tell me; 
but I was so crazy to locate the animals that I did not hear 
a sound. 

Opposite us, and beyond the sheep-Infested valley, 
there arose a red volcanic peak to a height of some hun- 
dreds of feet. The side facing us was very steep indeed, 
and off a little way to the right it terminated In a sharp 
nose around which we could not see. 

My first sight of a sheep was when one of the rams 
suddenly appeared across the ravine on the side of that 
peak, and In mad flight. It was a good two hundred 
yards away, and the sight almost gave me a horrible chill. 
The animal was not the ram with the heavy horns — 
though his horns were plenty big enough *'to satisfy the 
taste of the most fastidious " — and to my horror he went 
leaping away from me, diagonally^ and also upward! 

Instantly I fired at him, and overshot. Mr. Phillips 
cried, "Lower! You're overshooting!" Again, and the 
bullet cut up dust beyond him. Again! There was no 



A GREAT DAY WITH THE SHEEP 249 

dust raised by the ball, but he did not show that he was hit. 
My thoughts were all on one line, thus: 

"Quick! quick, or he will get around that point and 
be lost forever! Hurry!'* 

Just then there was a rush of a dark object coming 
tearing over the lava from the left and below, straight 
toward us. One glance showed that it was the other ram, 
coming like a steam-engine! 

"Here he comes!'* yelled John, fifty feet to my right, 
in a tone of stern command. "Shoot him! Shoot 
him!" 

With my eyes fast fixed on my own fast-vanishing ram, 
I threw a cartridge into the magazine of my Savage, and as 
the big ram rushed by only forty feet away, my muscles 
obediently pointed my rifle toward the animal. Without 
taking the slightest aim — ^with both mind and eyes firmly 
fixed upon my own escaping ram — I pulled the trigger. 
I never touched a hair of the ram — and afterward could 
scarcely believe that I had fired in his direction. It was 
not my ram, in any event; and my whole thought had 
been that I had no right to shoot at him! 

An instant later Mr. Phillips's big rifle roared out at 
the ram, full into its vitals, as it passed him only twenty 
yards to his right, and "biff!" went the horns of the ram 
into the side of a niche in an upright rock, twenty paces 
farther on. With the crash of the impact the splendid 
animal fell stone dead. Then Mr. Phillips whirled to 
me and said, in a tone of deep regret and apology, 

"Oh! I beg your pardon. Director! I didnt mean to 
do that! Please excuse me!" 



250 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

I could have shouted with laughter at the glorious 
absurdity of that speech. It was too funny for anything 
but roars; but I had not even one second in which to 
enjoy a laugh at that time. My running ram was almost 
to the vanishing point, and going as well as ever. 

For what I knew was my last shot, I steadied myself, 
took more deliberate and careful aim, and let go. No 
visible result; and the next instant the sheep turned the 
corner and disappeared. 

The awful mess that I had made of a perfectly golden 
opportunity, and the horrible exhibition that I had made 
of myself, almost made me sick. I think that was the 
worst thing that I ever did in hunting; and that is saying 
much. But I resolved to do my best toward looking 
further for that ram. So I said, humbly, 

*'I am going to circle round the base of that peak and 
see if I can find that ram again." 

"Your second shot hit him, all right," said Mr. Phillips, 
"and it was bully good shooting — at that ram bouncing 
diagonally up those stairs. Your last shot was at four 
hundred yards. I'll go up yonder and take his trail and 
see what I can do." 

"Well, don't fall off that steep place, ram or no 
ram." 

We separated, and in a miserable frame of mind I 
swung off lower down, to encircle the base of the peak. 
The lava was bad as the worst, and my progress was 
maddeningly slow. I had really no hope of ever again 
seeing that ram, unless I found him dead. 

After an interval, I saw Mr. Phillips gingerly working 



A GREAT DAY WITH THE SHEEP 251 

his way along the dangerous face of that steep pitch, and 
at last he called softly, from quite high up, 

"There's blood here! You hit him!" 

I pushed on over the lava, faster than before, and 
actually made my big circuit faster than my comrade was 
able to make his small one on that dangerous slope. I 
had swung around nearly a mile in order to reach a spot 
such as the ram would naturally choose to lie down in if 
he were badly wounded. I was about two hundred feet 
lower down than the vanishing point. At last I started 
to climb up into the heart of the place where the sheep 
might well be if he were wounded and had not got clear 
away — and then I was fairly electrified by seeing the 
ram's head suddenly appear above me, and look down at 
me. The next instant, however, he vanished. 

I went up that lava pile at a run, and soon stood 
where the ram had been. He was nowhere in sight, but 
a great patch of blood-spatters showed where he had 
stood for some minutes. Eagerly my eyes devoured every 
object in sight. The ram might have gone any one of 
three or four ways; but I felt that in the end I would get 
him. Then I heard a voice, as if from Heaven, calling 
out from away up on the peak, 

"To the right! To the right!" 

I whirled and dashed off that way at top speed, and 
ran straight toward the sheep. He was just climbing up 
the ragged side of a deep ravine of lava about seventy-five 
yards wide at the top. As he reached the top I was quite 
ready for him, and planted my one good shot. 

He fell over like a bag of wheat, tumbled slowly down 



252 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the wall of ragged lava, and half way down lodged fast, 
hanging head downward. The chase was done; but the 
less said about the manner of it the better. I did, how- 
ever, shout the news to John M., who stood on his red 
peak, swung his Stetson sombrero and yelled his congrat- 
ulations. 

I saw at once that although my ram was not the one 
of the long horns, his horns had extraordinary basal cir- 
cumference. I measured them as best I could alone, and 
made them seventeen inches, subject to errors. Later on 
at camp, with two men to help me, I measured them ac- 
curately, and found that they really were seventeen inches, 
precisely; but their size was all in the base. 

Our two rams fell about a mile apart, on the foot of 
the north-westerly peak of the group that forms the culmi- 
nation of Pinacate. The elevation was about 2,500 feet. 
Mine lay in the head of a deep lava ravine about five hun- 
dred feet down from its source. A very short distance 
above it, in the side of the perpendicular wall, there was a 
neatly sculptured niche, six feet high and five feet deep, 
with an arched top, precisely like a niche for a marble 
statue. Near it stood, like a sentinel, a brave but solitary 
giant cactus, dwarfed to six-foot stem, but indomitable! 

I scrambled up to the niche and, quite as I expected, 
found that it was a mountain-sheep bed of long standing. 
By the appearance of the floor, many a ram had rested 
there, and I opine that many more will enjoy that odd 
nook hereafter. 

We were then about six miles from the Tule Tank, 
and about three miles from the summit of Pinacate. 





From a photograph by J. M. Phillips. 

The Sheep Bed in the Lava Niche, and the Sentinel Cactus 

The lava is garnished with White Brittle-Bushes. 



A GREAT DAY WITH THE SHEEP 253 

Many times that day the summit looked very near and 
tempting, and but for the fact that we could not think of 
forestalling the Doctor and Mr. Sykes, we would have 
made a rush for the top as soon as our sheep were dead, 
regardless of getting back to camp. But the measuring, 
the photographing and the dressing of the carcasses occu- 
pied much more time than we thought, and before we were 
fairly aware of it the short afternoon was almost done. 
At the last moment we made haste to start back while 
daylight remained; but alas! we soon found that we had 
wasted the shining hours. 

After piling chunks of lava around the heads of our 
sheep — a most wise precaution, as it proved — ^we drew a 
bee-line down the Highway for camp, leaving the Choya 
Peak on our right. The upper two miles were so rough 
and bad that we were an hour in winning over them. 
Then the sun swiftly sank behind the far-distant crest of 
the Peninsula of Lower California, and darkness followed 
with unseemly haste. 

By that time my feet were actually crying out in protest 
against the punishment that was put upon them. The 
soles of my shoes were too soft! My ankles were weary 
of being wrenched all ways about, the soles of my feet 
were as sore as if I had been bastinadoed, and my injured 
instep hurt me exquisitely at every step. During that six 
miles to camp I endured much, and my gait was hobbling, 
not walking. I was indeed a ** tenderfoot"; but there 
was absolutely naught to do save to bear it, and go on. 

When about half way to camp a glorious diversion 
appeared. A full moon of unusual brightness rose pre- 



254 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

cisely between the two highest peaks of Pinacate and 
flooded the black waste of lava with most soothing, mellow 
light. By a common impulse, we paused and faced east- 
ward, to revel in the new and beautiful aspect of Nature. 
Under its beatific influence all such sordid things as lame 
feet were quickly forgotten, and from that moment the 
tramp to camp became a moonlight sonata. 

The mountain mass was a black silhouette, outlined 
above in old gold. From the distant summit a golden 
pathway came down across the lava, as if specially ordered 
to light our rugged course. We walked upon our shadows. 
The tops of the nodules of hard lava near at hand glistened 
in the yellow moonlight as if gilded, and the radiance 
melted away in the distance with intangible softness. 
When we came within half a mile of the red lava-cone of 
the morning, it was plainly visible. Far beyond our camp 
the dark mass of another lava peak was distinguishable, 
and between the two we were able to steer our course so 
accurately that we hit camp very fairly. 

On reaching the grand arroyo of the Tule Tank, we 
shouted, and were quickly answered. Soon the smoulder- 
ing camp-fire was kindled into a blaze, by means of which 
we cautiously picked our way to the only practicable 
crossing, crept down the wall with outrageous care and 
soon reached the comforting precincts of Home. There 
was warm food in the Dutch oven, which we gladly con- 
sidered. Faithful Frank Coles said that they had delayed 
supper for us and burned up no end of wood on the camp- 
fire, to guide us in; but the latter we saw not. Dr. Mac- 
Dougal and Coles had found a large ram, but it saw them 



A GREAT DAY WITH THE SHEEP 255 

first and gave them not one fair shot. It went away over 
the lava plain with a broken leg, and after tracking the 
animal about four miles — most skilfully on the part of 
Coles, so said the Doctor — night put an end to the chase 
for that day. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 

By Saddle-Horse to the Foot of the Peaks — Weakness of the Camera 
on the Lava Beds — The Notch — Mountain Sheep — Pinacate Peak, 
at Last — More Mountain Sheep — A Fearless Band, and a Great 
View of It — General Aspect of the Peak — A Great Extinct Crater — 
The Climb to the Summit — A Wild Revel on the Top — The Cyclo- 
rama Below — The Sad End of the Sonoyta River — "The Big Red 
Peak" — A Circle of Photographs — Our Cairn and Record — The 
Doctor Gets His Sheep — The Flight from the Summit — Three 
Decide to "Lie Out" Near the Two Rams. 

The twentieth of November dawned gloriously from 

Pinacate down across the lava to the open bivouac where 

half a dozen tired men lay sleeping above the Tule Tank. 

The morning temperature was 43° F. Late on the night 

previous we had gone to our sleeping-bags half dead of 

sheer weariness, and feeling like old men. Doctor Mac- 

Dougal and Coles had chased a ram for four long miles 

over the lava, until sunset drove them from the trail. Mr. 

Phillips and I had hunted within three miles of The Peak, 

ruthlessly bagged two fine rams, then tramped in after 

dark, quite tired out. Mr. Sykes said afterward that we 

had covered about fourteen miles; and had I only known 

that, as we hobbled home over the lava, I would have felt 

even more sorry for my feet than I did. Mr. Sykes had 

256 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 257 

made his wild-goose chase to the Gulf of California and 
back, getting in at one-thirty in the morning. 

By good rights we should have lain a-bag about twenty- 
four hours, in order to square physical accounts with the 
previous day. But no! With the first burst of daylight 
every man "piled out" into the crisp air and began to 
dress as blithely as if fatigue were a thing unknown. 
There is nothing in the human economy more wonderful 
than the recuperative power of a man who ardently de- 
sires to do something, and lets whiskey alone. 

That twentieth of November promised to be the 
greatest day of the trip; for by universal consent it was 
dedicated to the final assault on the main peak of Pinacate. 
It was The Day to which for eight months we had steadily 
been looking forward. The mountain sheep were, in 
comparison, but a mere incident. After two full weeks of 
swinging around that pivot peak, in which we described 
a semicircle with a fifteen-mile radius from due east of 
Pinacate to due west thereof, we were at last ready to 
charge straight forward to the summit, and solve the last 
section of the mystery. 

I wish that it were possible to place before the reader 
a pictorial exhibit of the lava beds at the Tule Tank, but 
it is not within my power. I am puzzled to divine the 
reasons why, but it is a fact that the camera seems utterly 
unable to grasp and transmit the details of those awful 
lavascapes. I think it must be due to the dark mono- 
chrome colour effect, which is quite unrelieved and un- 
accentuated by the many-tinted rocks, and trees, and other 
features that make up landscapes elsewhere. White 



258 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

peaks, and peaks gray or green, are easily photographed, 
at all ranges, but before black peaks and black foot-hills 
the human camera gives way, completely. A stereo- 
scopic picture, in a stereoscope, is the only one which 
enables the human eye to dig into the details of that great 
lava exhibit. We do know to a certainty, however, that 
all around Pinacate the atmospheric conditions for 
photography were unsatisfactory. 

For a beginning Dr. MacDougal and Coles went off 
to finish trailing their wounded ram, hoping to find it 
early and afterward meet us on the peak. Charlie Foster 
was sent down to look after the horses that were grazing 
in the galleta grass two miles away, and with them he 
spent the entire day. The four remaining members of 
the party, Mr. Phillips, Mr. Sykes, Jeff Milton and I, 
elected to go together and strike straight for the summit. 
We planned to climb the peak, and on our way home 
swing around to our two dead rams and bring them in — 
all in one day. But, as Charlie Foster would say, "Quien 
sabe.?" Who knows.? This involved the taking of 
horses; and in order to make time we decided to ride as 
far up toward the foot of the peak as our horses could 
carry us. 

As I folded my canvas hunting-coat — lined with cor- 
duroy—and strapped it snugly behind my saddle, Jeff 
Milton noticed it and exclaimed, 

"Why! Are you going to take your coat along?" 

"Yes!" I said, "I always make it a rule to carry it 
whenever I ride." 

"Well, then I'm blanked if I don't take mine, too," 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 259 

said Jeff. He was as frank and open-hearted as any boy 
of sixteen, and utterly barren of false pride. 

Had we but known all that lay before us, how quickly 
I would have put a blanket under my saddle. A thick 
saddle-pad is all right, so long as you don't have to *'lay 
out"; but if you are caught out, you quickly realize that a 
sa.dd\e-blanket is a genuine life-saver. 

Mr. Milton rode his horse and led "the sorrel mule," 
to pack in the mountain sheep, but Mr. Phillips elected 
to go on foot. We set off straight toward the peak, up 
The Highway which seems to have been specially cleared 
as a royal road from the Tule Tank up to the foot of the 
cone. For four or five miles the lava plain was not bad 
for shod horses and we got on very well; but after we 
passed that awful red-lava Choya Peak, on our right, 
the roughness of the lava and the raggedness of its ridges 
and ravines taxed to the utmost our ingenuity in path- 
finding for our horses. It was by far the worst country 
into which I ever took a horse, and but for the sheep to be 
brought out we would gladly have left our mounts at the 
Choya Peak. Many times we were compelled to dismount 
and lead our horses. Once we rode into a rugged cul-de- 
sac that offered no outlet for a horse, and compelled us to 
retrace our steps for a considerable distance. 

All this time we were constantly ascending, and it 
seemed that the higher we climbed the wilder became the 
lava. Milton roundly asservated that he ** wouldn't go 
over that stuff on foot — not for no money! " And when he 
said to me very feelingly, "No wonder you lamed your feet 
on this, yesterday!" it soothed both my feet and feehngs. 



« 

26o CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

We passed our two dead rams some distance to our 
left and headed straight toward the foot of the big lava 
peak that rises west-north-west of Pinacate. What invited 
us thither was a high lava plateau, half a mile square, 
which seemed like the best situation in which to leave our 
horses. The deep notch on the south of the secondary 
peak seemed to offer the best route to the main peak, and 
we decided to go through it — all but Mr. Sykes, the 
Geographer. He elected to separate himself from the 
rest of us, and take his horse with him. He rode on and 
upward toward the north, and presently disappeared 
around the steep northern shoulder of the peak, riding his 
old horse when he should have been leading him. But 
his theory was very simple. On the subject of saving 
horses he once said, 

** Horses are cheaper than men; and there will be 
plenty of old horses left in Mexico after I am gone.'* 

At the highest — and worst — point which Mr. Milton 
and I considered practicable for horses without punish- 
ment, we dismounted, unsaddled and tied fast to the 
largest mesquite bushes we could find. Forthwith we set 
out to climb on up into the notch, and through it. 

The barrier on the south was a great hill of lava, 
which on the side facing us terminated in a steep wall, like 
a cut bank. The face of the precipice was disintegrating 
and blowing away. Across it ran several well-defined 
sheep trails, leading from below up to the summit of the 
hill, opposite Pinacate. They were mountain-sheep high- 
ways, for fair. As we reached the farther end of the notch, 
with Pinacate Peak wide open before us, 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 261 

"Look there! Look there! Six mountain sheep!" 
said Mr. Milton. 

And so they were ; six ewes. Evidently they had gone 
through the notch, over their highway, only half an hour 
ahead of us. They were near the out-jutting nose of the 
hill, about seven hundred feet away and keenly alive to 
our presence. As we scrutinized them for a few moments 
they gave us stare for stare; but presently, having no 
protector, they decided to be going, and moved farther 
along. 

"Pinacate at last!" cried some one, as we turned from 
the sheep to gaze at the cone upreared ahead of us. The 
rib-like thing at which we had, for two days, been looking 
intently with our glasses resolved itself into a high and 
narrow wall of naked lava, like rustic rock-work from ten 
to twenty feet high, which ran south-westward down a 
steep angle of the cone. 

"The climbing is all right, boys!" cried Mr. Phillips. 
"We'll soon be up there. Look! Look! Yonder's Dr. 
MacDougal — half way up!" 

Sure enough, away up there, close under the lee of the 
rustic-lava wall was the Botanist, briskly swinging along 
upward, within five hundred feet of the summit. 

"Why! The south side of Pinacate is just hke that 
awful Choya Peak that we " 

** Great day, gentlemen!" cried Milton. "Just only 
look at this bunch of sheep ! Nine of 'em ; and two good 
rams!" 

Pinacate was utterly forgotten. In a most artistic 
group, on a very steep mountain-side that had suddenly 



262 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

opened up to our view on the left, there stood nine beau- 
tiful mountain sheep, alert, but motionless as statues, 
intently gazing down upon us. Could we have cut out of 
that mountain-side a section twenty feet long by ten feet 
high, it would have made a fine group for a museum, 
without changing a line, or any adding or subtracting. 
The animals all stood along the mountain-side, some 
headed our way and some the other. The slope of the 
mountain was about 70 degrees. 

''Look yonder! There are three more, higher up!'* 

**And yonder are two more — off to the right — and 
there are three more, lower down!" 

"I see three more — that makes seventeen in all. 
Great Scott, fellows! Just look at that ram, standing 
alone on that big chunk of lava, high up!" 

"I told you, gentlemen, that there was worlds 0' sheep 
in here!" said Milton, solemnly. 

**So you did, Jeff. Your sheep have made good!" 

Surely there is no need to apologize for the boyish 
excitement that we felt during the half hour that Ovis, 
the Ram, eclipsed Pinacate, the Bug-that-Stands-on-his- 
Head. 

We knew that the peak would remain, and the sheep 
would not. Everything in the world, save those sheep, 
was for the time forgotten. The nearest ones were within 
rifle-shot — about two hundred yards, no more — and the 
farthest were about double that distance. They had 
evidently been feeding during the early morning hours, 
and when first seen by us were quietly basking in the warm 
and comforting sunshine that flooded the Pinacate peaks. 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 263 

From first to last those seventeen sheep manifested not 
the sHghtest fear of us! I think that they never before 
had seen human hunters. If the oldest ewes and rams 
ever had seen and fled from Papago Indian hunters, they 
surely had outlived the period of "that reminds me." 
They looked mighty graceful — small but sturdy legs; 
bodies trim, neat and well set-up; heads high and finely 
poised, and colours bright and clean. The wide-spreading 
horns of the young rams reminded me of the beautiful 
burrhel, or blue wild sheep, of northern India. In every 
line and colour they were Ovis canadensis — the old-fash- 
ioned big-horn of the Rockies, no more, no less. Their 
body colours were the typical brown, with the rump-patch 
and nose clean white. 

As we gazed and talked, one of the nearest sheep must 
have said to his companions, 

"Well, I'm tired of posing here for nothing. Let's 
lie down awhile and take it easy!" 

He found a bit of ledge and calmly laid himself down 
upon it, to think of more pleasing things than strange 
animals standing upright on the lava far below and blink- 
ing upward with big, shiny eyes. About the same time, 
another sheep playfully reared upon another. 

We decided to talk to those sheep, and said, "Hello, 
there! Come down this way!" 

No answer. 

"What did you have for breakfast?" 

No sheep moved so much as an ear. 

We whistled, shouted, sang and finally yelled at those 
seventeen sheep; but of it all they took no notice, save to 



264 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

watch us very intently. We did not care to shoot any of 
them, and no one fired. They were too far away to pho- 
tograph successfully, and we could not spare the time for 
an attempt to stalk within fair camera-shot. At last, 
after fully half an hour spent in watching the seventeen, 
we reluctantly started on our way. Even then they stood 
pat for half an hour longer and watched us climb Pinacate! 

That mountain-sheep spectacle cost us dearly. We 
spent so much time upon it, and were so "rattled" by it, 
that Mr. Phillips and I completely forgot to photograph 
the Pinacate Peak from that notch — the only westerly 
point from which a good photograph can be taken! Be- 
tween us we carried three cameras and plenty of films; 
and on our return we were still so excited by the events 
of the day that we never once thought of the slip until it 
was many miles too late to make good. John and I both 
deserve state's prison. 

As we emerged from the notch, this is what we saw: 

Directly in front of us rose, a thousand feet high above 
our point, the great half-cone which is the highest peak 
of Pinacate. Toward our right a deep notch goes 
plunging down toward the lower slope, and the high lava 
mass which comes up from the west terminates in a very 
steep lava-slope. Toward the north Pinacate Peak drops 
two hundred feet or so to a *' saddle," or *'dyke," which 
connects it with the high westward peak on which the 
seventeen sheep were seen. From the foot of that con- 
necting saddle a deep ravine comes plunging down south- 
ward, and drops to oblivion far below. 

With one good circular look the whole situation is 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 265 

clear — at least on one important point. This huge basin 
between the three peaks once was the crater of this cul- 
minating volcano; and the peaks themselves when united 
formed the rim. First a notch was blown out toward 
the west, through which we came. Later on another one, 
much deeper, was blown out toward the south. Through 
those two notches ran great rivers of molten lava, and the 
congealed mass is there to-day, almost the same as when 
it came hot from the kettles of Pluto in the bowels of the 
earth. 

Having dismissed the sheep cyclorama, we made haste 
to attack the peak. Dr. MacDougal had long before dis- 
appeared near the summit, and Mr. Sykes was still in 
obscurity somewhere toward the north. 

We decided to make our climb along the south-western 
ridge of the peak, and after scrambling across the ravine 
that lay in our path, started up. 

Mr. Milton was uncertain about going up. With a 
weight of about 225 pounds, and a very steep slope looming 
up, he frankly declared his doubts regarding his ability to 
reach the summit without hindering the rest of us unduly. 
Of course we insisted that he could make the climb as well 
as any of us, and that go he must. Mr. Phillips kept 
close behind him, while I did the piloting, and the first 
half of the climb was made in excellent order. It was 
steep, of course, perhaps 40 degrees — for loose lava will 
lie more steeply than loose limestone. 

Half way up the layer of large lava blocks ran out, 
and we came to the rustic wall. The upper side of the 
wall was such a chaos of big blocks as to be impassable, 



266 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

but the lower side offered excellent footing in fine lava. 
At that point the side of the peak fell away in a tremendous 
slope of fine lava garnished with Bigelow choyas, at least 
40 degrees in pitch. It extended so far down that (as 
I now recall it) we couldn't see the bottom of it! 

The steepness of that slope, and the length of it, got 
on the nerves of our good friend Jeff, who, be it remem- 
bered, fears nothing of flesh and blood. He eyed it 
askance, as a wild bronco looks at a saddle, and finally 
said, 

** Gentlemen, I don't believe I can make it the rest 
of the way up. You go on, and I'll stay here." 

''Oh, you're all right, Jeff," said Mr. Phillips, sooth- 
ingly. "The worst of it is all over. We'll sit down and 
rest a bit, and then in fifteen minutes more we'll all be at 
the top!" 

After a brief rest we started on, keeping close beside 
the lava wall, and had no trouble whatever. At the upper 
end of the wall we found a narrow gap, a real Fat Man's 
Misery, through which Mr. Milton and I squeezed. 
There we found Dr. MacDougal patiently and loyally 
waiting for us, so that we might all of us reach the summit 
together. And then, also, the Geographer suddenly ap- 
peared on the skyline of the saddle, northward, and while 
we rested he came running toward us, straight across the 
western face of the peak. He was bareheaded, as usual, 
red, and visibly excited — a new thing for him. 

"I saw eleven sheep over there!" he panted. "I got 
quite close to them — and / photographed them! They're 
over there now!" 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 267 

But we, also, had a tale of sheep to recount, and a 
tally even larger than his. 

From the upper end of the wall to the summit it was 
a grand promenade. Each climber was generously de- 
termined that some other man should have the honour 
of being the first white man to set foot on the summit of 
Pinacate, so in order to get there we actually had to form 
in line and march up simultaneously, five abreast! We 
were all staid and orderly until we stood together on the 
highest point; and then a riot began. 

Looking back through the vista of four whole months, 
and viewing things with the cold eye of a historian, I am 
shocked by the wild revels in which my companions in- 
dulged on that devoted summit. Before the exhibition, 
I would not have believed that four staid and sober men 
could simultaneously act so much like boys recently let 
loose from school. Far be it from me to set forth all the 
capers that they cut, or the number of times that I heard 
the truculent exclamation, *' Ptnacate*s busted/'* That 
expression bore reference to certain picture post-cards 
sent out from Tucson the day before the expedition sailed. 
They depicted a four-horse prairie schooner wildly career- 
ing across a desert, bearing on its wagon-cover a brazen 
inscription which said, 

PINACATE 
OR BUST! 

And even unto this day do I hear occasional references to 
"The Busting of Pinacate." 

In the midst of a solemn and even prayerful eff^ort to 



268 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

photograph, without loss of time, "the big Red Peak," I 
heard Mr. Sykes say, in a tone of challenge, 

**Are you all ready ?" 

"Yes; let 'er go!" said Mr. Phillips. 

"Well, here she goes!" 

And then I was shocked speechless by seeing that re- 
fined EngHsh gentleman suddenly cast himself head-fore- 
most upon the ground and actually stand upon his head! 
While a pair of No. 1 1 shoes, hobnailed and ancient as 
the sun, wildly waved in the air, Mr. Phillips cold-blood- 
edly focused his camera as if to take a picture. I de- 
manded to know the meaning of that strange spectacle. 

"We dared him to play Pinacate [the-bug-that-stands- 
on-his-head] and have his picture taken!" 

But this was only a trifling incident of those goings 
on. No; there was not a drop in the whole outfit after 
we left Santo Domingo. Mr. PhilUps confiscated and 
emptied out upon the desert a stowaway bottle of mescal 
that he discovered under a driver's seat, and after that 
there was not even a spoonful of anything. It must have 
been that the altitude went to their heads. 

With hungry eyes we devoured the distant relief map 
of north-western Sonora. The very first thing that strikes 
anyone who stands on the summit is the big red peak that 
suddenly jumps up into view south-eastward in a way that 
is almost overwhelming. It is a perfect cone, at least 
1,500 feet from base to summit, and as we saw it its colour 
is burnt-sienna red. It is built of fine lava, and its sides 
seem as smooth as if lately sand-papered. Unquestion- 
ably it is the other peak of the twins that are seen from the 




L 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 269 

north-east. Being quite nameless up to the date of our 
visit, Dr. MacDougal and Mr. Sykes have very properly 
christened it Carnegie Peak. It rises so near to the main 
peak on which we stood that its summit seemed only an 
eighth of a mile away. Later on, Mr. Sykes climbed it, 
and ascertained that its summit is two hundred feet lower 
than that of Pinacate. 

Eagerly we turned our eyes southward, toward the 
wholly unknown. In that direction the view suddenly 
plunges downward and discloses many small volcanic 
cones rising like brown pustules on the lava plain far be- 
low. Our first thought was of the Sonoyta River and 
its ultimate fate. 

Beginning at the Playa Salada, far to the north-east- 
ward, it was possible to trace its course by the winding 
edge of pale-green jungle that meets the edge of the dark- 
brown lava field. We followed it as it comes for several 
miles almost straight toward our peak, then turns and 
runs due south for at least fifteen miles, to the end of a 
range of lava peaks that run off due south-eastward from 
Pinacate. (See Map.) Far away in that locality, some- 
where, it turns westward, and at the edge of the sand-hills, 
in a wide green plain, its trail is com.pletely lost. As a 
matter of fact, the stream ends in a flood-basin, which Mr. 
Milton discerned and carefully pointed out to the rest of 
us. Not a drop of the waters of the Sonoyta ever cross 
the sand-hills, or reach the Gulf. It seemed too bad that 
so brave a stream should die so ignominiously, and never 
meet the sea. 

From the appearance of the broad and low-lying val- 



270 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

ley of the Sonoyta from Agua Dulce to the sand-hills, I 
am convinced that in comparatively recent geological 
times an arm of the Gulf of California extended up the 
Sonoyta valley as far as Agua Dulce. Near the Playa 
Salada, below Agua Dulce, we found several marine 
shells, much weathered but still recognizable. Two of 
these were giant heart shells, 4J inches in diameter, — 
Cardium {Levicardium) elatum, — and the others were 
Pectunculus gigantea. 

Strange to say, the view from the summit was not quite 
what we expected. The coveted details of cone, crater 
and lava plain were mostly lost to view, and the Gulf was 
so obscured by haze that no camera was able to record it. 
In architectural details the view at 2,500 feet is much more 
satisfactory. 

Looking north-eastward we discovered a large, deep 
crater, distant perhaps six or seven miles, and straight 
beyond it, about fifteen miles away, we saw the zone of 
naked ashes that encircles the base of the Cerro Colorado. 
From that point, swinging westward through at least 120 
degrees, the lava plain was thickly set with lava cones, 
each of which represents an extinct crater. Later on, Mr. 
Sykes expressed the belief that around Pinacate there are 
the remains of nearly five hundred extinct volcanoes! The 
mountains of southern Arizona, and those in the vicinity 
of Sonoyta — Cypriano and Cubabi — show up but dimly, 
enshrouded in the prevalent blue haze which in this region 
masks the details of nearly all distant mountains. 

At the lofty elevation on which we stood — which Mr. 
Sykes declared to be 4,060 feet — the sand belt between the 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 271 

lava country and the Gulf seemed very narrow and In- 
significant. The head of the Gulf was fairly well re- 
vealed, but the mountains of the Peninsula were merely 
a great mass of Indian-summer haze. It was impossible 
to locate the Papago Tanks, save by the granite mountains 
beyond them, at the end of MacDougal Pass. 

It was highly interesting to stand on the summit of 
a peak that rises like a lava island out of a lava sea and 
view, in one circular sweep, so vast a cyclorama of extinct 
volcanoes, glowering lava, green desert, distant mountains 
of blue haze, barren sands and shimmering sea. Smile 
if you will. Reader; but to us it was a thrilling moment. 
Had we seen not one thing of interest between Tucson and 
the Pinacate summit, a half hour with that grand spectacle 
of Nature, in the wildest corner of Mexico, would have 
repaid everything. 

At last, however, someone bethought himself to re- 
mind the Doctor of the mountain sheep that were literally 
going to waste on the farther side of the western peak; 
and this roused him to fresh activity in another direction. 
Leaving us to settle with Pinacate, he girded up his car- 
tridge belt, caught up his rifle and set off down the moun- 
tain toward the saddle like him of the seven-league boots. 
Inasmuch as we had unanimously resolved that the expe- 
dition would not move out of its tracks until the Doctor 
bagged his ram, it was a good thing for him to improve 
the shining hour. 

With the departure of the Chief, the rest of us settled 
down to business. I did my best to take a series of pict- 
ures of the most striking scenery below, then undertook 



272 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the task of preparing a record, sealing it tightly in a square 
tin can and erecting over it a monument in memory of 
that afternoon. Fortunately, large chunks of lava were 
obtainable quite near the summit, and with valuable help 
from Mr. Milton the cairn grew apace. 

Mr. Phillips worked his two cameras to their full capac- 
ity, and I hoped great things therefrom. With the utmost 
care he made a complete circle of exposures, fourteen in 
number, taking in the entire cyclorama of Pinacate. Un- 
fortunately, however, the lenses which in the Rocky 
Mountains were able to dig out details at a distance of 
twenty miles were sadly balked by the fine sand in the 
atmosphere, which produced a deadly yellow haze that 
eveh cut out of the pictures the waters of the Gulf. 

Mr. Sykes quickly busied himself with his plane- 
table, and crouched over it until the last moment of our 
stay on the summit. While we were all busy with our 
several tasks, the Doctor began to fire on the farther face 
of the western peak, and we counted several shots in steady 
succession. 

"The ram is running; and the Doctor is getting an- 
gry!" explained Mr. Sykes — which eventually proved 
to be a correct diagnosis of the case. When we all met 
at camp (the next day) and put the Botanist on the witness- 
stand about that firing, he gave this testimony: 

"After leaving you on the summit I dropped down to 
the saddle and then worked up the ridge connecting with 
the western peak, getting out far enough to put my glass 
on the band of sheep on the farther rim. The last look 
showed them as dropping ofip on the farther side of the 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 273 

ridge, undisturbed after a last look at the party back on 
the main peak. The hunt now seemed to me all but 
ended, and I thought I had but to work around the con- 
vexity of the slope on which they grazed and select my 
trophy. 

"A careful stalk was made, and as I wriggled through 
the notch in the last lava dyke, which I supposed separated 
me from the band, imagine my dismay at seeing them, as 
I thoughty on the slope and crest of the small peak across 
the canon, to the westward. This meant another two 
long miles of stalking, and if the band had made so far 
in so short a time, it meant that they had been alarmed, 
or had winded me, and some careful work would be neces- 
sary to come up to them. 

*' Quickly dropping down to the bottom of the canon, 
I had hardly started up the opposite slope when over my 
left shoulder I caught sight of the original band of eleven 
in a shallow gulch of the slope I had just left! The dis- 
covery was mutual, and for a moment I stood feeling as 
unprotected as if I had been stalked and cornered by as 
many mountain lions. 

"The band was strung along the mountain side, from 
which they were so little different in colour that at a dis- 
tance of something less than three hundred yards I was 
obliged to use the glass to find the horns that were mine 
by the laws of the chase. The bearer thereof was quickly 
located at the farther side of the bunch, where he stood on 
a low lava block, keeping a most inefficient guard, for 
which he was himself to pay the penalty. Before I could 
cover him to fire, two ewes and a smaller ram grazed in 



274 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

front of him, and I was obliged to lower my rifle twice 
before I sent the first fatal shot home. It was placed 
too far back, however; and then there began a running 
battle. 

"I had spent the previous day and a half on the long 
and devious trail of the wounded bearer of the *head of 
heads' without coming up with him. As this band broke 
for safety, the doomed ram among them, they had to 
course about me in a semicircle at two to four hundred 
yards, and I resolved to bring down this head from where 
I stood. As the band now bunched and scattered in its 
headlong flight, I might have laid half of them low, but 
ignoring them entirely, I drove straight for the ram at 
every opportunity when he was not behind rocks or 
masked by fleeing companions. 

"Although firing a 220-grain bullet, I saw shot after 
shot go home with but little effect, until at last, as the band 
began to emerge from the amphitheatre of war, far to the 
left, a ball through the spine let him down. As I saw him 
drop the gun-barrel scorched my hand, and the scattered 
shells about me gave evidence that I had fired at least 
twenty times. Making my way to the fallen game, I 
found that he had been hit once out of every four times I 
had fired, and each of these five shots alone should have 
been quickly fatal. The second shot had struck the 
frontal bone and carried through the skull without entering 
the brain cavity, but even after this terrific blow the ram 
had run for nearly a quarter of a mile. This time the 
biggest one did not get away." 

After the Doctor had killed his ram quite dead, he 



THE ASCENT OF PINACATE 275 

hurriedly cut off its head, eviscerated the body, left a note 
to Mr. Sykes on the horn of his saddle, requesting him to 
bring the head to camp on his horse, and then immediately 
set out at a rattling pace for camp. Mr. Sykes presently 
came along, and did as he was requested ; and so for that 
day we saw him no more. 

It was late in the day when Mr. PhilKps, Jeff and I 
left the summit and scrambled down. We hurried through 
the notch, and after a walk that was very painful and cor- 
respondingly long, we reached our horses and saddled up. 
By that time only one hour of daylight remained in which 
to go to our two sheep, dress them and get out of the worst 
of the lava before darkness fell! It was very evident that 
to do all that in one brief hour was a wild impossibility. 
Said Mr. Milton, 

"We'll have to light out for camp, and come back in 
the morning to get those sheep." 
I said, 

"That would mean twelve miles of travel over this 
awful lava, the whole of to-morrow forenoon consumed 
by the return here, and an entire day lost. I think it 
will be wise for us to camp up here to-night, get an early 
start and get the sheep to camp in time to work them up 
to-morrow afternoon." 

Mr. PhilHps agreed with me; but said Mr. Milton, 
"We're not fixed for lying-out here! We've nothing to 
eat, and our horses have had neither grass nor water since 
morning." 

" We can get along all right. We can water our horses 
in the arroyo where my sheep lies. We have plenty of 



276 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

sheep meat, and as for grass, it won't hurt the horses to 
fast until to-morrow afternoon." 

It was quite clear that at least two men and one horse 
would camp on Pinacate that night and make six miles 
of rough travel serve the occasion instead of eighteen. At 
first the proposal did not at all commend itself to the mind 
of Mr. Milton, and I feared a radical disagreement. But 
he acted very handsomely about it, and presently, with real 
cheerfulness, consented to join in my scheme. With a 
feeling of profound relief over thus saving a whole day at 
a time when the sands of my leave of absence were run- 
ning out horribly fast, we set about making horses and 
men as snug as possible for the night. 



CHAPTER XX 

"LYING-OUT" ON PINACATE, AND THE FINAL SHEEP 

A Camp-Fire in a Lava Ravine— A Dinner of Broiled Liver— The 
Resources of the Party and Their Distribution— The Gunny-Sack as 
a Producer of Warmth-Mr. Phillips Takes Advantage ot a Sleeping 
Comrade— The Coyotes Spoil a Museum Sheep— "Why Don t \ou 
Shoot that Ram?"— Curiosity Long Drawn Out— An Unexpected 
Trophy— Mr. Sykes Stalks a Mountain Sheep on Pinacate. 

In the belief that any Reader who has resolutely 
waded thus far may also be interested in knowing how 
we fared when compelled by circumstances to "lie out" 
in the lava beds of Pinacate, I will set down the doings 
of that rather romantic occasion. There is seldom 
anything startUng about such an incident, but for myself 
I always like to know just what the other fellow did when 
he was *' caught out.'* 

First of all, we led our horses over the roughness to 
the deep lava gulley in which my seventeen-inch ram lay 
dead, and watered them at the little pockets of water that 
we found there. Then we located the horses on smooth 
lava that was somewhat sheltered from the west wind, 
where they could at least amuse themselves by pretending 
to browse on some stunted mesquite bushes. 

I scrambled up to my sheep in the head of the ravine, 
to do the marketing for the camp. Through a flash of 

277 



278 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

unusual animal intelligence on the previous day, when I 
dressed the carcass I carefully cut out the liver and laid 
it on a chunk of lava for future use. This I made haste 
to gather in, besides which I hacked off a section of the 
hind quarter. Before darkness fell we looked about for 
dead wood that could be utilized for our camp-fire with- 
out the intervention of an axe; for of axes we had 
none. 

We found a most picturesque dead stub of a once huge 
mesquite, clinging by one root on the sharp edge of the 
ravine. At the base it was as large around as a flour 
barrel, but it was only fifteen feet high, and so shaky that 
we undertook to vibrate it into the bottom of the ravine. 
But that one deep-seated fang of a root, which once ran 
down to the stream bed, baflBed our united strength. 
After giving up beaten, we lighted a fire at the base of the 
hollow trunk, on the windward side, and away it went! 
In half an hour it was a veritable pillar of fire, visible from 
afar, and later on was seen by Mr. Sykes as he picked his 
way campward across the black lava-plain 1,500 feet 
below. 

In the bottom of the ravine, a short distance below 
the pillar of fire, Mr. Milton found a remarkable ironwood 
tree with two large naked trunks, one green, the other dead 
and dry, both writhing over the ground like huge snakes 
before they finally rose into the air. 

"This big, dry stem will make us a bully fire while 
she lasts," said Jeff, admiringly. ''We'll build right up 
against it, and by and by, when it burns in two, we can 
work in the whole of it." 



"LYING-OUT" ON PINACATE 279 

We gathered all the dead mesquite stems that we 
could find in the neighbourhood and tear loose by hand- 
and-foot power, but the total accumulation was inadequate 
for an all-night camp-fire. It was certain to grow cold 
soon after sunset, and we looked forward doubtfully toward 
the small hours of the morning. 

If you slice carefully the liver of a reasonably young 
mountain sheep, impale it on a long stick just so, salt it 
well and broil it very carefully **well done" over a bed of 
hot coals, you need not go hungry — unless you have too 
many competitors. 

If the operation has been conducted with intelligence 
as well as with main strength, the product makes a fine and 
tasty dish; and any sportsman who cannot make of it a 
good square meal is to be regarded as a suspicious person. 
A hunter of big game should not fail to carry salt; for in 
the queerest ways imaginable the ability to eat a comforta- 
ble meal may suddenly be found hinging upon its pos- 
session. If you are caught out with meat, but saltless, 
then cut your meat rather thin, and broil it until rather 
overdone; for an unsalted steak or chop that has been 
burned to a crisp can be eaten with fair relish when the 
same morsel rare, or underdone, would to some men be 
impossible. 

Directly in front of our camp-fire the bed of the ravine 
was smooth and shaped like a cradle; and it was there 
that we must lie, willy-nilly, to gain warmth from the fire. 
A big clump of bushes, of a species unknown to me, but 
very dense and very springy, completely covered the steep 
face of the ravine wall farthest from the fire. Jeff Milton 



28o CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

tested the mass with his outspread hand, and finding it as 
springy as a pile of hay, he said, 

"These bushes will make a bed plenty good enough 
for me. I don't want anything better than that. Fll 
just spread my blanket over and have a fine spring mat- 
tress." 

Mr. Phillips also elected to sleep on the white bushes, 
but I chose a spot low down upon the rocky bed of the 
ravine, and more sheltered from the wind. Of course we 
all lay within the zone of light and warmth. 

On taking an inventory of our resources, we found that 
we had two small and light saddle-blankets, belonging to 
Milton; two thick felt saddle-pads; a gunny-sack, a coat 
belonging to Mr. Milton, another belonging to me, and a 
bag of salt. (It was Milton's salt that really saved our 
lives.) Mr. Phillips had no coat, and therefore one blanket 
and one saddle-pad were issued to him. To Mr. Milton 
was assigned the other blanket, and to me fell a saddle-pad 
and the gunny-sack; with which, and my coat, I was by 
no means badly provided. 

Feeling reasonably sure that the snapping cold hours 
after midnight would disturb our rest, we turned in im- 
mediately after our broiled-liver repast, while the fire was 
at its best, and the night the least cold. One man whom 
I know thanked his stars that he was not hunting camp in 
the dark across four or five miles of lava ; and in spite of an 
endless chain of cold thrills that chased each other up and 
down his anatomy from head to foot, tradition states that 
forthwith he went sound asleep, and slept hard and fast 
for several hours. 



"LYING-OUT" ON PINACATE 281 

At first, however, through his sleeping fancies there 
ran a distinct thread of thought, thus: *' A gunny-sack is 
a cool proposition on a windy night. . . . What a pity 'tis 
that gunny-sacks are not more closely woven! . . . Gunny- 
sacks are very much too small. They should be made 
wider, to cover more than one side. ... It will be much 
colder pretty soon; and then I will have to get up." 

Then there followed an interval of complete oblivion — 
how long, I knew not until later. After that, my mind 
began to take heed of Life, and resumed its functions thus 
— for I remember the sequence very well: 

"How comfortable it is here! . . . Who would have 
believed that an old gunny-sack could keep a man so 
warm! . . . How mistaken I was about this sack! . . . 
There is really a surprising amount of warmth in it!" 

Finally I opened one eye, and saw John Phillips sitting 
close up to the much-shrunken camp-fire, dropping small 
sticks upon the coals, and smiling to himself, as if at a 
good joke! Why was he not in his place, and sleeping.? 
And why laughing — at that hour ? 

As I moved my hand, to turn and speak to him, it 
came in contact with cloth that was woolly and warm; and 
in another second I was shocked into full wakefulness by 
the discovery that I had been betrayed ! While I soundly 
slept, my comrade had risen, taken his only blanket, com- 
pletely covered me with it, and tucked me in so gently and 
skilfully that I did not waken! That was the reason why 
my old gunny-sack had kept me so warm, and finally 
wakened me by the wonder of it. And John M. was 
laughing over his success in outwitting me! 



282 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Full of indignation, I arose to protest, and explain how 
it happened; but obtained no satisfaction. Then John 
and I went cruising out into the darkness for more wood, 
and presently found a good supply. By uniting our 
strength, we tore down and ripped up a large dead mes- 
quite, then gathered in some dead ocatilla stems, and fired 
up so successfully that Jeff was compelled, in self defence, 
to move farther from the fire. Dead ocatilla stems burn 
with the snap and brilliancy of hickory bark, and while 
for light they are great, they of course cannot yield much 
heat, nor burn for long. Many **briUiant" men are just 
like them. 

Jeff presently sat up to enjoy the fire, and during the 
two hours that we sat there, roasting ourselves and traf- 
ficking in yarns, he told us several thrilling incidents of 
his swiftly moving life. There is one in particular that 
I would fain recall; but it was then impossible to take 
notes, and later on we were so hurried that there was no 
opportunity. 

At two in the morning the body of the dead ironwood 
python burned in two, and by a process in simple addition 
the fire renewed its lease on life. A cold wind blew 
crosswise over our heads, but in our snug cradle of lava it 
affected us not at all. After our camp-fire yarns had been 
spun out to drowsy lengths we settled down once more, 
secured a second edition of slumber, and by common con- 
sent awoke at the first peep of day. During the whole 
long night we did not hear a sound from any wild 
creature. 

While Jeff and I broiled over a fine bed of coals a 



'^ 



W ^— -w:ci*?TW75! « 



--^'■^■■:^'..:itX!^':-^:-!^ 



M 






"LYING-OUT" ON PINACATE 283 

generous quantity of mountain-sheep steaks, Mr. Phillips 
expended a film in photographing our hospitable camp- 
fire and lava bed; and half an hour later the serious busi- 
ness of the day began. Of course we did not feel quite 
as fresh and supple as after an unbroken night in our good 
sleeping-bags, backed by a breakfast of Frank's excellent 
making, but we were glad that we had remained where 
we were instead of making the long and tiresome trip to 
camp and back again. 

Very soon after sunrise we took the yellow mule and 
a pack-saddle, and, leaving our rifles at camp, labouriously 
picked our way northward around the foot of the mountain 
nearly a mile, to where lay Mr. Phillips's ram. We in- 
tended to skin the entire animal and preserve it for Dr. 
Holland's museum, but alas! the rascally coyotes of Pina- 
cate had visited the remains and left it an unsightly wreck. 
The hind-quarters had been completely devoured, and the 
skin of the body had been ruined past redemption. 

The head, however, was untouched. Although Mr. 
Phillips had entertained no fear of coyotes, in deference 
to a long-standing principle of caution when he dressed 
the carcass he had collected large chunks of lava, and with 
them completely covered the head. That was all that 
saved the trophy. Fortunately, my ram had not been 
visited by the marauders — possibly because of our close 
proximity. 

We cut off the head and placed it upon Polly the Mule 
for the return journey. Mr. PhiUips elected to leave us 
there, and went off northward for a solitary scramble 
through the lava, and a final return to c^mp by a new 



284 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

route. In five minutes the convulsed lava swallowed him 
up and we saw him no more. 

Mr. Milton and I started back to our bivouac and 
had slowly picked our way over about half the distance 
when he asked me a question. 

"Where did you say you were when you first sighted 
those two rams ? " 

I faced a quarter way round to the right, took my 
bearings and finally said, 

"We were up on the crest of that ridge, behind the 
tallest mesquite bush which you see yonder." 

Jeff looked, and said with a satisfied air, 

"Oh, yes; I see." And a moment later he added, in 
the most matter-of-fact way imaginable, *'But why dont 
you shoot that htg ram, over there?'* 

By all the powers, there stood in full view, on the crest 
of a lava ridge, and not more than two hundred yards 
to the left of the bush at which I had pointed, a splendid 
mountain ram — a "hunger," for fair! He posed on a high 
point, statue-like — head high up, squarely facing us, out- 
lined against the sky and staring at us with all-devouring 
curiosity. At that moment he was quite beyond fair 
rifle-range; and we were without our rifles! What fools 
these mortals be! 

I looked at him through my glass, and he stood as 
still as an iron dog. Not once did his gaze leave us, not 
once did he wink an eye nor move an ear; but, dear me! 
how grand he did look! It seemed as if he owned the 
lava, and had caught us trespassing. 

"Now, what fools we were not to bring a gun!" said 



"LYING-OUT" ON PINACATE 285 

Jeff, with an air of deep dejection. I dare say it was the 
first time in many years that Jeff had found himself gun- 
less in the presence of an enemy. 

''Well, it don't matter," I said. ''Another ram will 
answer my purpose quite as well." 

"/ believe he'll stay where he is until we can get our 
guns," said Jeff, hopefully. The wish was the father of 
the thought. 

"Oh, impossible!" I said. "He never will wait that 
long. It's a long way yet to our camp; and he'll clear 
out in another minute." 

"Well, now, he may not! Let's make a try for our 
guns, anyhow, and see if he won't wait. I'll tie this mule 
here where his nibs can see her, and we'll just quietly 
slip off after our shootin'-irons. I wouldn't be one bit 
surprised if he'd wait." 

I thought that the effort was absolutely certain to 
come to naught, and that before we could get our guns 
and return with them the ram would be a mile away. To 
follow him up would be out of the question, because of 
pressing duties ahead. But Jeff was so cheerful about 
making the effort that I could do no less than cheerfully 
join him, and take the chance. It was precisely like the 
occasion in the Hell Creek bad-lands when, to oblige old 
Max Sieber, who wished me to see where he "missed that 
big buck," I climbed after him to the top of a butte and 
from it killed a fine mule deer, in spite of myself! 

Milton's feet were almost as lame as mine were; but 
as fast as we could we hobbled over the lava to our camp, 
caught up our rifles and hiked back again. 



286 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

**He's there yet!" said Milton, triumphantly, when we 
sailed up abreast of the sorrel mule. "He'll wait for us!" 

Then I began to feel an awakening of hope and in- 
terest, and we applied ourselves seriously to the task of 
making a good stalk. An intervening mound of rough 
lava offered our only chance of an approach, and when 
finally we got it in line between ourselves and the ram, 
he was still there, gazing intently at the decoy mule. 

The top of the mound was distant from the ram about 
one hundred and seventy-five yards. Mr. Milton was 
on my left, and he deployed in his direction while I made 
off to the right side of the hill. We must have been about 
a hundred feet apart. There was no such thing as signal- 
ling each other, and it was agreed that the first man to 
secure a fair chance should fire. Knowing the quickness 
of my good friend Jeff in getting into action with a gun, 
I let no great amount of grass grow under my feet after 
we separated. 

Evidently, I was first to reach a coign of vantage, for 
suddenly I found the living-picture ram standing full in 
my view, within fair rifle-shot, squarely facing Milton's 
position, and with his side in perspective to me. Aiming 
quickly, yet with good care, at the exposed point of the 
left shoulder, I let go; and like a quick echo of my shot, 
Milton's rifle rang out. 

Instantly the ram wheeled to the right and — vanished, 
as if the lava had swallowed him up. 

Jeff and I were almost dumfounded with surprise. 
We expected a fall, a leap, or at least a stagger — anything 
save swift and total disappearance. 



"LYING-OUT" ON PINACATE 287 

''Well! What d'ye make o' that?" said Jeff, with a 
troubled air. " Can it be possible that both of us missed 
him?" 

"It begins to look like it," I answered. 

With the best speed that we could put forth, we 
hurried over to the crest of the ridge, where the ram had 
posed so long and so beautifully, and with eager glances 
swept the view beyond it. Not a living thing was in 
sight. Jeff was more puzzled than before; but for once 
reason came to my aid. I said, 

"Jeff, it is impossible for that ram to have run clean 
out of sight by this time. He must be somewhere near, 
either wounded or dead. Look for him lying down. He 
may jump up and run, any minute." 

"We must trail him up if we ever want to find him," 
said Jeff, gloomily. 

"Trail nothing! I'm going to hustle off down yonder, 
the way he should have run, and see if I can't scare him 
up." 

"Well, you go ahead; but I'll follow his trail. . . . 
See, here it goes!" 

I figured that if wounded the ram would be certain to 
run down hill; so I ranged down and away, over the 
smoothest course I could find. In less than a hundred 
yards I turned a low corner of lava rock, and there on a 
smooth spot lay the ram — stone dead, without a struggle. 
He had been killed by a bullet that had entered close 
behind his left humerus, ranged diagonally throughout 
his vitals, and lodged so far back in his anatomy that my 
utmost efforts in dressing the carcass failed to locate it. 



288 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

He had also been hit by another bullet, but that shot was 
quite harmless. 

Naturally, we were profoundly elated over our suc- 
cess; and I did not recover from the surprise of it for 
fully a month. Previous to that day, I thought that I had 
learned something about wild animals, but my best efforts 
failed to read aright the mind of that ram. But for the 
insistence of my good friend Milton, I never would have 
taken a step to fetch my rifle and stalk that animal; for 
I believed that the chances of his waiting for us were not 
more than one in a million. 

And now, in the light of the final result, what shall we 
say of the mental processes of that animal .? One man's 
opinion is as good as another's, and the Reader can judge 
quite as well as anyone. As for myself, I have two 
thoughts : 

First, I think that ram never before had seen men, he 
did not know what we were, nor did he even suspect that 
we were dangerous, predatory animals. Next, his bump 
of curiosity was inordinately developed, and he was fairly 
fascinated by that Naples-yellow mule with a big sheep- 
head on her hack. I think he recognized the horns of a 
creature of his own kind, but the location of them — on 
the back of a strange mule — was to his simple mind an 
unmitigated staggerer. His efforts to solve the problem 
thus suddenly thrust upon him eventually cost him his 
life, and gave me a trophy that will outlast Its owner by 
half a century or more. In the group of our mounted 
sheep heads It is No. 4. The horns measured fifteen and 
one-eighth Inches in circumference by thirty-three inches 



"LYING-OUT" ON PINACATE 289 

in length. As the table of measurements will show, their 
bigness was continued all the way from base to tip. 

The pelage of this sheep was thin, old and poor. It 
seemed to be in a shedding period — out of all season for 
such a change. 

With two men, three big sheep heads and two saddles 
of mountain mutton our pack-mule and two saddle-horses 
were loaded down until PlimsolFs Mark was buried out of 
sight. In order to get on, I was obliged to carry my sheep 
head in my arms. At first I resolved to walk, and devote 
my horse to freighting the trophy; but Mr. Milton said 
severely, 

"Oh, thunder! Get on your horse, and make him 
carry you and the head, too. It won't hurt him a bit. 
Why, with my feet as lame as they are now, / wouldn't 
walk to that camp for all the mountain-sheep heads in 
Christendom!" 

Even the ride to camp was tedious and tiresome. 
We arrived about noon, stiff and sore; and for my after- 
noon's rest and diversion I had to skin four sheep heads, 
work up the whole buck antelope that Charlie had 
brought in — most excellently protected — and prepare 
about twenty-five pounds of meat for drying. The only 
thing that sustained me at the last, and really saved my 
life, was Mr. Sykes's account of stalking a mountain-sheep 
ram that very morning on the north side of Pinacate. He 
said, 

" I was on my way back from my work on the summit 
[his second trip], and while swinging around that north 
slope, quite near to where I saw that bunch of sheep, I saw. 



# 



290 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

ahead of me, a big ram. He was partly hidden by lava, 
but I saw his body quite plainly. He was lying down, 
resting himself, and I made up my mind to have him. 

**When I first saw him he was about four hundred 
yards away, and the mountain-side there was very bare 
and open. Well, I tied my horse, quite out of sight, got 
down on my stomach, and wormed my way over the lava 
until I got within about a hundred yards of where I had 
marked down my sheep. I raised my head, and saw that 
he was still there. Finding that he was quite quiet, I 
decided to work up closer; and I did. Lying as flat as I 
possibly could, I wormed my way up fifty yards farther, 
to make real sure of getting him. I was pretty well blown 
by that time, and the rough lava was quite unpleasant to 
my hands and knees; but I thought the ram was worth it. 

"At last, when I had finished a good stalk and was 
quite near enough, I got good and ready, slowly raised my 
head and my rifle and was just about to pull trigger, 
when — I changed my mind, and didn't fire." 

"What! You didn't fire? Why not.?" 

"I saw that I didn't need to. The ram was already 
dead! It was the headless body of the sheep that the Doctor 
shot yesterday! . . . Then I came home." 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE YARN OF THE BURNING OF THE HILDA 

The Characteristics of Mr. Godfrey Sykes — A Versatile and Remark- 
able Man — The Yarn of the Hilda — A Quick Transformation 
Scene on a Desolate Shore — A Foot-Race with Death — Impassable 
Mountains — Seven Hard-Tack for i6o Miles — A Tough Coyote — 
A Fish in Time — Swimming the Colorado — A Bean-Pot at Last — 
The End of Charlie McLean. 

As previously intimated, our Official Geographer, Mr. 
Godfrey Sykes, was a man of remarkable personality. 
Take him anywhere outside the purlieus of a modern 
city, and there are few things that he cannot be and do. 
He has the skill and experience of mature manhood, the 
strength and energy of youth, the knowledge of a man who 
has travelled and done much, and the spotless manners of 
an Arizona Chesterfield. Until I saw him on the desert, 
I had thought that Dr. MacDougal was under a Sykesian 
spell ; for I could not figure out how one man of this earth 
could combine in his one self as many desirable qualities 
as G. S. was said to possess. 

I entered the orbit of the Arizona Wonder rather 
prejudiced, but Mr. Phillips and I now agree that the 
Paragon is the real thing, unique and sui generis. The 
only fault in him is that in the deserts he will go hafless, 

with the sun beating down upon his head until it makes 

291 



292 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

all other heads ache to see It! His scalp is now the colour 
of fried bacon, and his thin, curly thatch of hair looks as 
if it had been baked to a crisp — which it has. But of 
this he recks not, provided the mountains to be climbed 
and the craters to be descended are sufficiently numerous 
to keep him from becoming burdened with "ongwe." 

Mr. Sykes is an Englishman, but not at all of the 
comic-paper type. His H's are so securely lashed that 
none ever go adrift, and his command of the mother tongue 
is to his listeners a source of delight. Professionally he 
is an engineer, and it was he who was kindly loaned by 
Dr. MacDougal to the Solar Observatory at Pasadena to 
build a practicable road up a steep mountain to the seat 
of war after other engineers had balked at both the sum 
available and the time limit. Mr. Sykes drew the plans, 
hired Japanese labourers, bossed them, and the work was 
triumphantly carried through, on time. 

At Yuma, Mr. Sykes built a boat for the Desert 
Botanical Laboratory, which has successfully navigated 
the treacherous waters of the lower Colorado, and the 
head of the Gulf. By the same token, he previously built 
at Yuma a rather presuming little sloop, called the Hildoy 
which promptly came within an ace of undoing both him- 
self and his partner in the seafaring business. 

I had collected from the Doctor various interesting 
fragments of that story, and patiently bided my time. It 
was while in camp at the Papago Tanks that the narrow 
margin of time between the consumption of ten solid 
pounds of fried mountain-sheep steaks and bedtime 
offered the opportunity which we had stealthily awaited. 



THE BURNING OF THE HILDA 293 

To talk about the Gulf of California, which all day had 
lain level and shimmering under our eyes, was natural 
and easy; and a timely mention of ''Puerto San Felipe,'* 
as it is marked on the maps, led to vigourous remarks from 
the Geographer. 

"Nothing could be more ridiculous," said he with 
much energy, "than that fake port. From the name on 
the map, anyone would expect to find a town there, or at 
least a settlement of some kind. As a matter of fact, there 
is neither port, nor settlement, nor even a hut; and there 
is not a soul within a hundred and fifty miles. There once 
was an empty tin can, but my partner and I took that 
away with us when we hiked northward to reach a settle- 
ment while we had strength enough to travel. I tell you, 
that name on the map is dangerously misleading, and some 
day it may cost the life of some poor castaway who strug- 
gles to it, thinking to find a settlement." 

That was the psychological moment; and with one 
voice several of us demanded to know all about the burn- 
ing of the Hilda, and its consequences — which the Doctor 
always gently spoke of as "a might-tee close call for Sykes!" 
The Geographer was in the right mood, and forthwith 
told us this story, word for word, as here set down. 

"Well, gentlemen, it is now about seventeen years ago 
that I joined in with a husky Scotchman named Charlie 
McLean. At Yuma we built ourselves a very good little 
sea boat, twenty-seven feet long, half decked over and 
schooner rigged. We decided to sail down the Colorado 
to the Gulf of California, then on down to the west coast 
of Central America and after that to wherever the Fates 



294 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

might direct us. We took in plenty of provisions, and as 
we ran out of the mouth of the Colorado, into the head of 
the Gulf, the world looked very much like our oyster. 

"The tides in the head of the Gulf are very heavy, and 
we put in a week or so playing with them, before heading 
down the Gulf. Finally we decided to go down on the 
Peninsula side, and cross the Gulf lower down. 

i^Qne evening we ran into a little inlet near Fermin 
Point, and camped on shore behind a low ridge of sand 
that had blown up parallel with the shore. It was a rough, 
windy evening, with the wind blowing half a gale; and 
with a piece of canvas we rigged up a small shelter-tent 
to keep the sand out of our eyes, and out of the bean-pot. 

"As it began to grow dark, I went down to the boat to 
light our lantern. It was one of those old-fashioned rail- 
road lanterns, that can't be trimmed without puHing out 
the whole bottom. I fiddled and fussed with it for quite 
a while, under the forrad deck of the Hilda, out of the 
wind, striking a number of matches; and, as I now sup- 
pose, I dropped some of the burning ends while struggling 
to get the light to suit me. 

"The tide was out, and the boat lay high and dry on 
the sand. I suppose one of my burning match-ends fell 
upon something burnable. But I didn't know it at the 
time, and went back to our camp-fire. 

"Half an hour later, as we chanced to look seaward 
over the top of the sand ridge, we saw a glare of light, and 
heard the popping of cartridges. We rushed for the 
boat, but found very little left of it, and none of our pro- 
visions. Our can of kerosene had melted open, and all 



THE BURNING OF THE HILDA 295 

that was left of the boat was pretty well covered with the 
best fire-maker in the world, and burning fiercely. Our 
water-cask, however, was still safe, and we threw wet sand 
upon it until the fire around it was smothered. It was 
absolutely the only thing that we saved from that boat! 

"Well, it didn't take much reflection for us to see that 
we were in a first-class fix. |We knew that southward the 
nearest settlement was at least two hundred miles away, 
and no water between. Northward, the nearest settle- 
ment was about one hundred and fifty miles away, on the 
Colorado River; but between it and us lay a great alluvial 
desert plain, cut up by numerous creeks and arms of the 
river, some of which would be very difficult to cross. 

*' We took an account of stock, and found that we had, 
of provisions, a pot of beans, thirteen hard-tack biscuits 
and one go of coffee in the coffee-pot. That was abso- 
lutely all! 

"Our guns and cartridges had all been burned up, with 
the exception of a little sawed-off 20-gauge muzzle-loading 
shotgun. This grand weapon was one that somebody had 
given to Charlie to use in killing small birds, and for it we 
had exactly two loads. We also had some blankets, my 
sextant, a chart, a boat compass, field-glasses and some 
tools. Among the tools was a soldering-iron and some 
solder; and so in the morning, when we had looked things 
over, I took the tin lining out of our water-tight locker and 
made a couple of canteens. They were pretty rough, but 
they held water, and afterward served us mighty well. 
I don't see how by any possibility we could have pulled 
through without them. 



296 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

"After long and careful figuring, and calculating our 
chances, we decided to cross the Peninsula, and make our 
way to the west coast, where we knew there were some 
settlements. Back of us lay a strip of low country about 
six or eight miles wide, and then the high mountains began.! 
We filled our canteens with water, took the compass, 
chart, sextant, the blankets, beans and hard-tack, and 
started westward for the mountains. 

*' We reached the foot of the range, and spent a whole 
day in trying to make our way up the face of it; but I 
tell you those are the most straight-up-and-down moun- 
tains that you ever saw. It was nearly, if not quite, im- 
possible to climb up that fearful eastern wall — at least 
where we were. At last we decided that rather than use 
up our time and strength in such a fearful struggle as that 
was, with mighty doubtful results, we had better go back 
to our water-cask, fill our canteens again and try for the 
settlements on the Colorado. We therefore ate up the 
remnant of our beans, hung the empty pot on a dead iron- 
wood tree — where I have no doubt it is to-night — and the 
next morning went back to the remains of the Hilda. It 
was then quite clear that our only chance lay in reaching a 
settlement on the lower Colorado. 

"That night we made some small cakes out of a small 
handful of flour — soaked in kerosene — that we found under 
some wet sand in a corner of the burned boat. 

"On the third morning we set out northward along 
the coast. We had seven hard-tack each, with one hun- 
dred and sixty miles of foot travel ahead of us before we 
could reach the Colonia Lerdo, above the head of tide- 



THE BURNING OF THE HILDA 297 

water on the Colorado River. That was the nearest 
prospect of another dip into a bean-pot; and it seemed 
a mighty long way off! 

*'The water question was our chief worry. We 
thought we might make between twenty and twenty-five 
miles a day over the sandy country that we would have to 
cross, and get on fairly well on one hard-tack apiece each 
day; but a gallon of water per man each day seemed a 
mighty slim allowance. However, things turned out 
better than we had expected. On the morning of the 
third day out from our boat, when we were rounding the 
bottom of San Felipe Bay, we saw a coyote trail running 
into a small, brushy flat. Believing that it led to water, we 
followed it, and found a small well, or spring, of good, 
wholesome water. This watering-place had been known 
to the seal-hunters and others for a long time, and we had 
heard of it in Yuma, but no one had been able to give us 
definite information about it. 

"We remained there all that day. On the rocks 
along the shore we found lots of oysters — and I tell you 
they were might-tee good! I really doubt whether we 
could have pulled through without them. Charlie had 
a fish-hook in an outlying pocket, and with it he tried to 
catch a fish ; but it was no go. 

"That night as we lay in our blankets, near the spring, 
I felt something tugging at my toe, and looked out. It 
was bright moonlight, almost as light as day; and there 
was a coyote, trying to steal my blanket. 

"That was his undoing. I roused Charlie, who still 
carried his little shotgun with its two loads. Up to that 



298 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

time we had not seen a single living thing sufficiently near 
that it could be shot. The coyote didn't seem to mind in 
the least our speaking or rustling around, but just stood 
and looked at us, much as a dog might do. After a little 
trouble with a damp cap, and a hunt in his pockets for 
another, Charlie finally made out to shoot that coyote; 
and as it was nearly daylight we got up, skinned him and 
cooked a hind leg over the coals of the camp-fire. 

"That was positively the rankest thing in the shape 
of meat that I ever tackled. Even with oyster sauce it 
was almost uneatable. Apparently our dead friend had 
lived exclusively upon a fish diet, and spoiled fish at that. 
Although we ate all that leg, burned the other one almost 
to a crisp, took it along to gnaw upon, and tried to make 
the best of it, I am bound to say that from that day to this 
I never have enjoyed broiled coyote as an article of diet. 

**In the lower part of San Felipe Bay we found the 
wreck of a little schooner, lying on the beach, and near 
it we also found the remains of two rusty tin cans. Those 
we filled with oysters and started on northward. 

*'For thirty miles below the mouth of the Colorado 
River the western coast is very flat, soft and muddy. The 
heavy tides flood the country for miles back from the shore 
of the Gulf. This we had discovered on our way down. 
We now were compelled to steer a course toward the west- 
ward mountains, and keep close to the foot-hills until 
sufficiently far north to strike across eastward for Hardy's 
Colorado, the nearest fresh water that we were sure about. 

"It took us four days of pretty hard pegging to make 
that stretch. Our rule was to march fifty minutes of every 



THE BURNING OF THE HILDA 299 

hour and rest ten minutes, and we adhered to it quite 
closely. I think it was very wise. I used the chart and 
compass to steer by, sighting on the mountain peaks. 
The low country was so obscured by haze and mirage that 
it was very difficult to navigate without mistakes. When 
at last I decided that it was time to turn east toward 
Hardy, our canteens were about dry. With our knives we 
punched a little hole in the lower corner of each, drained 
out the last drops of water into the particular parts of 
our throats that seemed to be dryest, then laid down the 
canteens for the next wayfarer in those flats who might 
need them. 

''We reached the Hardy about on schedule time, and 
we took two of the longest and wettest drinks on record. 
It seemed as if we had never before known what it was to 
be thirsty. After that we began to cast about for some- 
thing that we could eat, but there really seemed to be 
nothing doing in that line. Charlie dug up his fish-hook 
once more, and with a piece of twine we set a night-line. 
We baited it with a big, fat and most edible-looking grass- 
hopper. It seemed a pity to gamble the hopper on the 
remote chance of winning a fish, but like real sports we 
decided to risk it. 

"The result justified our sportiness; for the next 
morning, when we looked over the edge of the bank, we 
saw a fine, large mullet lying on the mud, waiting for us. 
Now, as far as I know, the mullet is a fish that don't take 
a hook at all; but that one had managed to get himself 
hooked in the gills, and the tide had gone out and left him 
high and dry. 



300 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

"Charlie made a dive for him over the edge of the 
bank, and I always accused him of trying to catch that 
fish in his teeth, for he came up with his face covered with 
mud. We rolled the mullet on the grass, gloated over him, 
daubed clay on him, warmed him for a few minutes over 
our camp-fire, then being utterly unable to wait any longer, 
we fell to and had a very fine fish breakfast. 

*'We crossed the Hardy, and headed into the tule 
and wild-flax brakes toward the Colonia Lerdo. It took 
us two days to make the river, for we were then getting 
weak, and it was mighty hard work pushing through those 
marshes. At last, however, we reached the west bank of 
the Colorado, at a point a few miles below the colony, 
but on the wrong side of the river; and it was a case of 
swim or starve. The river was wide, and the currents 
were mighty uncertain. We were afraid to tackle it with 
our clothes on, and without a raft. 

"We burned off some small dead willow trees, then 
burned them into lengths, and with our fish twine, some 
bark and osiers we made a little raft, large enough to carry 
our clothes and blankets, and other plunder. 

"The water seemed awfully cold, but we had to stand 
it. Fortunately, we were both of us fairly good swimmers, 
and we pushed the little raft ahead of us very successfully. 
After a long pull we reached the other side and landed on a 
comfortable sand-bar. After that our troubles soon came 
to an end. We soon found an old cattle-trail, and after 
following it about three miles we reached the colony. 

"In the camp of a couple of Americans who were 
down in that country hunting wild hogs we found a pot of 



THE BURNING OF THE HILDA 301 

freshly cooked beans. I don't like to think how many 
we ate; but I know that in the middle of the night I got 
up to have a few more. Before I knew it I had finished 
the pot, and was wishing for more. Talk about hunger! 
It took us a whole week to get enough! 

"We rested one day at the colony, then headed up 
for Yuma, which was about seventy-five miles away. The 
road was fair, and there were several watering-places, so 
we got on finely, and soon reached the metropolis of the 
Colorado desert. 

"Poor Charlie McLean was afterward drowned in 
the Grand Canon of the Colorado. Two of us made a 
trip of thirty miles down through the rapids, to recover 
his body, but we never found it. He was a mighty good 
fellow, was Charlie." 



CHAPTER XXII 

NOTES ON THE MAMMALS BETWEEN TUCSON AND THE GULF 

Desert Conditions — The Pack-Rat and Its Wonderful Nests — The 
Kangaroo Rat — Harris's Chipmunk — No Arboreal Squirrels — Jack- 
Rabbit and Cotton-Tail — The Coyote — Prong-Horned Antelope — 
Deer — Peccary. 

In one respect, the wild beasts of the field are like 
civilized men. They insist upon living wherever Nature 
affords them the slightest foothold. So long as the world 
stands, the smoky-faced Eskimo will shiver and starve 
in his beloved Greenland, the Congo pygmy will grope 
through the gloom and fever of his equatorial forest, and 
the Bedouin will gasp and sweat on his blistering sands. 
Give a man a fixed annuity of bread and butter, and he will 
not ask for immunity from anything. If the first applicant 
does not accept the bread, the butter and the situation, 
of a surety the second one will. 

Like the creosote bush, the mesquite, palo verde and 
the cacti, certain animals have decided that the deserts 
offer an opportunity for life, liberty and the pursuit of 
happiness that is not to be ignored. Much saving grace 
lies in the "pursuit." The wonder is not there is so little 
animal life on the deserts, but rather that there is so much. 
Now, were I a kangaroo rat, the awful heat and thirst of 

the arid region generally would at once drive me to the 

302 



NOTES ON MAMMALS 303 

vicinity of Manhattan, Kansas, where everything is lovely, 
except the Kansas River on a rampage. 

The jack-rabbit, the cotton-tail, the pack-rat, kan- 
garoo rat, chipmunk and coyote have elected to locate and 
live in the deserts, partly because they think it is to their 
best interests to do so, and also because they enjoy it. 
Long before civilized man began his relentless persecution 
of the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air, they 
moved in and took possession, to grow up with the country. 
Excepting the large game, I think that thus far civilized 
man has made but little impression upon them; and that 
is one of the reasons why they are so interesting. I hope 
that some day some keen and truthful naturaUst will go 
into the deserts and up to the mountain-tops of our de- 
voted country, spend time and really find out how our 
small neighbours live, all the year round. 

To my mind, the " Pack-Rat," or, to be quite specific, 
the White-Throated Wood-Rat,* is the most interesting 
four-footed creature of the deserts which we traversed. 
We had him with us all the way from Dr. MacDougal's 
Desert Botanical Garden at Tucson quite up to the lava 
peaks of Pinacate. Judging by the wide intervals between 
his nests, he must be a great traveller. The nests were 
by no means numerous, and as we saw them, they seemed 
to average nearly five miles apart. Will someone tell us 
whether this animal sometimes migrates all alone, and 
nests for a period in single blessedness, or whether they 
always pioneer in pairs ? In view of the distances by 
which Pack-Rat nests are separated, we should like to 

*Neotoma alhigula. 



304 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

know the habits of the animal in its marriage relations. 
In the deserts and lava a Pack-Rat's nest very often is 
developed into a formidable affair. When choya joints 
are plentiful and cheap, it becomes a regular fortress, im- 
pregnable to coyote, fox and even the naked hands of man. 
Let us consider the very first rat fortress that we met with 
in Arizona: 

It was in the level plain surrounding the base of the 



Length shown, 15 feet. 
Creosote I 




Abandoned holes •s O 



Holes in use e (^ WJ.H. 



Fortress of a Pack-Rat, at Tucson. 

Defended by the spiny joints of the Tree Choya {Opuntia julgida). 

Botanical Laboratory mountain, at Tucson. Usually the 
desert nest of this animal consists of a two-bushel heap of 
dry sticks, horse droppings, small stones or choya joints, 
according to availability. This one was of very particular 
interest because of the oddity of the scheme that the little 
beast had worked out. 

The fortress consisted of several burrows, the roads 
leading to which were all carefully protected by barriers of 
cactus joints! 



NOTES ON MAMMALS 305 

I am going to describe and map what Dr. MacDougal, 
Mr. Phillips and I saw, and leave the Reader to draw his 
own conclusions. On the spot I drew a map of the whole 
affair; and when it was finished it was submitted to my 
companions for inspection, and comparison with the 
original. They examined it with some care, and said that 
it fairly represented the situation. A fac-simile is repro- 
duced herewith. 

The habitant had chosen to make his fortress between 
a large creosote bush and a tree-choya cactus {Opuntia 
fulgida) that grew on bare ground, twelve feet apart. 
When away from home and in danger, the Pack-Rat evi- 
dently fled for safety to one or the other of those outposts. 
Between them four entrance holes, then in use, went down 
into the earth; and there were also four abandoned holes. 

Connecting the two outposts — the creosote bush and 
the choya — with the holes that were in daily use there 
were some much-used runways, as shown on the map; 
and each side of each runway was barricaded throughout 
its length with spiny joints of the choya. A few of the 
joints were old and dry, but the majority were fresh and 
in full vigour. We estimated that about three hundred 
cactus joints were in use guarding those runways; and no 
coyote or fox of my acquaintance, nor eke a dog of any 
sense, would rashly jump upon that spiny pavement to 
capture any rat. 

Beyond the cactus outpost the main run led straight 
to the sheltering base of a thick mesquite bush and a palo 
verde that grew tightly together. This gave an additional 
ten feet of safe ground, or about twenty-five feet in all. 



3o6 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

And yet there are men claiming to know things about 
the intelHgence of animals who will assert in print that the 
four-footed animals are mere living machines, of no intelli- 
gence save in inherited knowledge, and unable to reason 
from cause to effect! Such views are held only by men 
who know very little of the wild animals of the world, 
either in their haunts or in captivity, and they are not 
worthy of serious discussion. 

During our desert journeyings we saw about twelve 
nests of the Pack-Rat. I expected to find them absent 
from the lava region around Pinacate, but, no! they had 
persistently pushed up almost to the base of the ultimate 
cone. We took photographs of three or four, to show the 
various types. 

Wherever choya joints were available, they were freely 
used, and sometimes they constituted the sole building 
material. Once while trying to shoot a mountain sheep, 
Mr. Phillips had a most disagreeable fall into a large rat's 
nest made of choya joints. His legs and hands gathered 
so many spiny joints that he was entirely unable to use his 
rifle, and the sheep escaped. 

When choya joints are unavailable, the Pack-Rat 
makes its nest of dry sticks and other things. The estab- 
hshment which I photographed on our way south from 
Wall's Well was of that kind. The site had been chosen 
where five or six rather large stones lay near together, and 
It seemed to us they were intended to render successful 
digging by a coyote an impossibility. The mass was 
five feet long, three feet wide and two feet high. It con- 
sisted of dry sticks from mesquite and creosote bushes. 



NOTES ON MAMMALS 307 

and choya joints; and it had four entrances, all facing 
the south. It is the way of the Pack-Rat to use in its 
nest almost any loose material that comes handy — except 
grass! The latter it carefully avoids — quite as if aware 
of the fact that such inflammable material is not a good 
fire risk. 

The White-Throated Pack-Rat is about twelve inches 
in length, of which the tail is one-half. It is larger and 
darker than the species farther west and also those farther 
east. Its upper body colour is a mixture of gray and light- 
brown tones, touched up with black, while its under parts 
and feet are white. Its range extends, so 'tis said, all the 
way from western Texas to the Colorado River, and there- 
in I venture to say it is the most notable mammal below 
the size of a rabbit. It is eaten by the western red-tailed 
hawk, the coyote, the skunk and the Indian. Any hungry 
pioneer or prospector might devour it with as proper a 
sense of the eternal fitness of things as people manifest 
when they eat the smelly flesh of squirrels. 

The beautiful little Desert Kangaroo Rat* is a habitant 
of the deserts only where there is sand, or earth sufficiently 
free from rock and gravel that his tiny little paws can win 
through it. He can live only where he can excavate, and 
carry up the material in his funny little hair-lined cheek- 
pouches. Inasmuch as each cheek-pouch holds, when 
loaded full, only half a teaspoonful of sand, it is quite 
certain that the industry of Dipodomys is really very great. 
With the camp shovel I once dug into the sandy Gibraltar 
of a Kangaroo Rat, and endeavoured to size up the plans 

"^Dipodomys deserii. 



3o8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

and purposes of the small architect. Although I chose a 
home ranch which occupied the entire top of a tiny natural 
mound, the sand was so loose, and caved in so persistently, 
that my best efforts resulted in but a hazy impression. It 
was quite impossible to make a map of the premises. 

The dominant principle of a Kangaroo Rat's burrow 
is a bewildering labyrinth of large galleries, all connecting 
with one another, and with holes for ingress and egress on 
six or eight sides. Thus, no matter what be the direction 
from which Dipodomys flees homeward from an enemy, 
there is always a door ready to welcome him; and no 
matter which side of his fortress may be entered by a 
dangerous marauder, he can always fly out in the opposite 
direction. 

The entrance holes are from two to four inches in 
diameter, but the internal galleries are much larger, vary- 
ing all the way from five to eight or ten inches. The 
worst thing about them is their nearness to the surface. 
The roof of the average tunnel Is only about six inches 
down, although they vary down to sixteen; and in clear 
sand both horses and men are continually breaking 
through into the galleries. Whether riding or walking, to 
be continually dropping with a jerk into big holes is far 
from pleasant. After half an hour of such pitfall work 
It begins to abrade one's nerves, and makes the victim 
wish that Dipodomys would either dig deeper or depart 
to a much warmer clime. Once when I was dragging and 
carrying a pack-mule load of firewood across a sandy plain, 
and suddenly plunged almost to my equator into a Kan- 
garoo Rat's burrow, Mr. Phillips thought It very amusing. 



NOTES ON MAMMALS 309 

and ha-hahed, and wished for his camera; but I saw 
nothing funny about it. 

There is one thing about Dipodomys which can be 
predicated as a fairly immutable certainty. If he doesn't 
get water by lapping up the dew, or occasionally the rain, 
he doesn't drink at all! It is very certain that none of the 
burrowing rodents of the desert sands patronize the water- 
holes or the wells, for they have no means of reaching 
either. Rain or no rain, they must stand pat, and either 
extract moisture from their environment, or go dry. I 
think the heavy dew is the answer for them, but that would 
hardly seem sufficient for the mountain sheep, antelope 
and other hoofed animals. 

I feel sure that the roots of the creosote bush must 
furnish the Kangaroo Rat with acceptable food ; for other- 
wise, how could thousands of those small sprites exist in 
such a stretch of desert as that north-eastward of the Cerro 
Colorado, whereon there is absolutely no living plant or 
shrub save the creosote ? It was there that the burrow 
mounds — each one surrounding an individual creosote 
bush — were so thick that there never were fewer than five 
in sight at one time. The stems of the bushes were not 
gnawed, and therefore, by elimination, we may reach the 
conclusion that the roots are fed upon. Unfortunately, 
there was no time to catch a specimen and investigate. 
In other places the burrows were thick in sandy spots 
wholly monopolized by galleta grass; and undoubtedly 
that plant fed Dipodomys. 

It is unfortunate that the Kangaroo Rat is so strictly 
nocturnal. Were it like the sociable little chipmunk, we 



310 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

would have seen hundreds, perhaps thousands, of them; 
but as they are, we saw only two. That was at night, 
when we were in camp at Child's Well, the last water on 
the road up to Gila Bend. After supper, as we sat 
quietly and reminiscently around the camp-fire, we were 
all suddenly hushed by seeing a little white ghost glide out 
from under the wagon, within five feet of Frank Coles, and 
pause near a bag of barley. I was astounded at seeing how 
very white it looked in the semi-darkness beyond our circle. 

The little chap seemed quite indifferent to us, and went 
about his business of picking up grains of barley, and 
stowing them in his cheek-pouches, as calmly as if we had 
been logs of wood. Presently another came; and we 
watched the pair, spellbound. Not once did either of 
them stand up on its hind legs to survey its small 
world, but went on its four feet, as other mice do. Al- 
though they are called Kangaroo Rats, physically they are 
not in the rat class at all. They are distinctly feather- 
weight. A full-grown male is only about twice the size 
of a house mouse. 

In captivity, a Kangaroo Rat lived in the Zoological 
Park for nearly three years. It was fed on the dryest of 
food, very rarely drank water, and as an exhibition animal 
it was a total failure. , It never willingly showed itself in 
the daytime, but at night it came out of the concealment 
of its hay, and became quite lively. 

Along the banks of dry arroyos, swiftly darting in and 
out of the mesquite clumps, we occasionally saw the Harris 
Antelope Squirrel.* In form, size and habits it is a desert 

* Ammos pernio philus harrisi. 



NOTES ON MAMMALS 311 

chipmunk, no more and no less than a pale-gray relative 
of the common eastern chipmunk. We never saw it away 
from the banks of arroyos, where the greatest variety of 
plant life is to be found. It seemed to be a species of rare 
occurrence, and I think that throughout our four hundred 
miles of overland travel we saw altogether only ten or 
twelve specimens. Our first specimen was taken at Hayes 
Well, Coyote Mountain, and the last one seen was near 
Agua Dulce, in the Sonoyta Valley. Length, five and one- 
half plus two and one-half inches. 

Of arboreal squirrels, belonging to the genus Scuirus, 
we saw not one, and I doubt whether one can be found 
between Tucson and the Gulf of California. The reason 
is not obscure. Save in the Sonoyta Oasis, there are no 
trees large enough to shelter tree squirrels. 

Of hares and rabbits we saw only two species, the 
Arizona Cotton-Tail* and the Arizona Jack Rabbit.f 
But neither species was particularly abundant. There 
were a few places wherein four or five jacks might be 
scared up in going a mile; but they were rare, and the rule 
was about one jack to the mile, or none. The weight of 
an average male jack was four and one-half pounds. 
This species is well marked, even when running, by its 
tail, which is long, short-haired, black above and gray 
below. Half the time it runs with its tail erect, when it 
looks like a white-tailed species; but when it gently lopes 
off with its tail down, it looks its name. The greatest 
number we ever saw in one day was about thirty, and that 
was in the Ajo Valley, just north of Child's Well. I 

*Lepus arizonae. ■\Lepus calif amicus eremicus. 



312 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

could see no reason why they should be especially numer- 
ous there. 

The Cotton-Tall Rabbit is small but persistent; and 
to coyote, hawk, badger, skunk and ocelot it surely is like 
manna in the wilderness. As Lepus sylvaticus spreads 
westward and southward, even into the savannas of South 
America, those who have followed it most closely have 
split it into numerous species and sub-species. In a 
museum, doubtless all those forms are distinguishable; 
but on the hoof, all Cotton-Tails look alike to me. Those 
that ostentatiously scurried across my bows in the desert 
looked sufficiently like the little imps that breed, and gnaw 
the bark of young trees in the Zoological Park, to have 
been their blood brothers. 

There were times when Mr. Phillips and other mem- 
bers of the party became excited, and saw big ivhite-tailed 
jack-rabbits, unlike the black-tailed species, so they said; 
but I saw none, and finally declared open war on the 
mythical other species which "might have been seen.'* 
Said Mr. Sykes, most pointedly, 

"After this, gentlemen, let it be thoroughly under- 
stood that stories of white-tailed jack-rabbits don't go 
unless you can produce the rattles!'* 

A white-tailed jack-rabbit inay inhabit that country, 
and probably does, since Mr. Phillips and Dr. Mac- 
Dougal saw some; but no rattles ever were produced. 
There was not time enough. 

We saw no living members of the Marten Family 
(which includes the otter, mink, weasel, marten, wolver- 
ine, skunk and badger) ; but we saw many badger holes, 



NOTES ON MAMMALS 313 

which probably represented Berlandier's Badger. As 
already noted, some fresh fragments of a large species of 
skunk, probably Mephitis macroura,were found on Cubabi 
Mountain, near Sonoyta. It is to be understood, how- 
ever, that we saw on our hurried trip only a very few of 
the mammalian species which undoubtedly inhabit that 
region, and which a longer residence would disclose. 

Of the larger animals known to inhabit the region we 
traversed, a brief summary possibly may be useful to 
someone; but it must be remembered that our tour of 
observation embraced only the month of November. 

The Coyotes, like the poor of holy writ, were with us 
always. They serenaded us at Roble's Ranch (our first 
camp), they ran through our camp at Agua Dulce, and 
they ruined Mr. Phillips' finest mountain sheep on the 
lava within two miles of Pinacate Peak, at an elevation of 
about 2,500 feet. At the eastern edge of the lava a sick — 
or discouraged — coyote disdained to take me seriously, 
and at Quitovaquita two of the gray brothers lay dead. 
Out of the ruck of thirteen *' described" coyotes I must 
confess I am unable to pick the species that so often 
entertained us, nor does its exact sub-specific gravity 
matter very greatly, except that by reason of its cold gray 
colours it did not appear to be Mearns Coyote. It was 
distinctly smaller than the Montana Coyote, but no other 
difference was discernible in November specimens. 

Of the puma, we saw not a trace ; and bears of all kinds 
were equally absent. 

While we were at Pinacate Peak and the Tule Tanks 
Jess Jenkins and George Saunders, who were holding 



314 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

down the camp at the Papago Tanks, saw a strange animal 
in the vicinity of my work-table, but it was impossible to 
identify it from their description. It may have been a 
*' bob-cat" (lynx), or it may have been an ocelot. 

Of Prong-Horned Antelope we saw not one in Arizona, 
and none in Mexico until we reached the eastern edge of 
the great Pinacate lava district, where we found six indi- 
viduals. Later on, Mr. Phillips saw two specimens in 
that same spot, and killed both, for the Carnegie Museum. 
About thirty antelopes were seen at the edge of the sand- 
hills, at the south end of MacDougal Pass. On our way 
from the Papago Tanks to the Tule Tanks we found on 
the lava plain a band of five antelopes, two of which were 
killed by Mr. Jeff Milton, as previously described. Alto- 
gether we saw about forty-three individuals. 

Of the three male specimens killed (and preserved) 
two were true to the standard type of Antilocapra amer- 
icanay but the third had such a queer mane on the nape 
of its neck that if taken quite alone it might possibly tempt 
a hair-splitting classifier to call it a new sub-species. 
But in view of the characters of the other specimens taken 
in the same locality, such a determination would be un- 
tenable, for it is evident that the variations noted were 
purely individual. 

Antelope once were plentiful in Arizona along the 
course we travelled, but the deadly long-range rifle has 
completed its work, and to-day all are gone. 

In a dozen localities which should have contained deer, 
we hunted deer quite diligently but found two only, at the 
foot of Cubabi Mountain, near Sonoyta, one of which I 



NOTES ON MAMMALS 315 

shot and sent to Dr. W. J. Holland, at Pittsburgh, for the 
Carnegie Museum. That species was Coues Deer,* 
a very small member of our White-Tailed Deer group. 

The only trace of the Desert Mule Deerf seen by us was 
a single antler picked up at the Papago Tanks, about 
fifteen miles from the shore of the Gulf of California. 
Throughout the Sonoyta Valley the species has been 
exterminated, chiefly through the efforts of the Papago 
Indians, who are diligent hunters. 

Of the Collared Peccary or Javalina (called "Hav-a- 
le'na"), we saw not one. Charlie Foster still asserts 
that they inhabit Cobabi Mountain, south-east of Sonoyta, 
and with him as a guide Mr. Phillips made a fiercely 
vigourous hunt for them the day before we left Sonoyta for 
home; but the hunt was a blank. The Peccary is fairly 
common in the Santa Catalina Mountains, near Tucson, 
and since our visit Dr. MacDougal has had a very success- 
ful hunt for them, finding a good number, and bagging 
two fine specimens. 

The Mountain Sheep of Mexico will be spoken of in a 
separate chapter. 

*Odocoileus couesi. "fOdocoileus hemionus er amicus. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

NOVEMBER BIRD LIFE IN THE LAND OF LITTLE RAIN 

The Disappointing Road-Runner — Gambel s Quail and Its Pursuit — 
The Wisdom of the Cactus Wren — The Crissal Thrasher's Nest — 
Western Red-Tailed Hawk — The Red-Shafted Flicker — ^Nests in 
the Giant Cactus — The Crows at the Papago Tanks, and a Murder 
— Doves — ^A Bittern Fishing — The Mud Hen of Sonoyta — Scarcity 
of Reptiles in November. 

On the whole, I think that the volume of bird life be- 
tween Tucson and the Gulf was greater and also more 
interesting, than any of us expected to find it in November. 
Of course it greatly surpassed the mammalian life; but 
that was to have been expected. Thanks to his wings, 
the bird is much more of a free moral agent than the 
mammal. If his environment fails to come up to his 
expectations, he can "quit the country*' and try his luck 
elsewhere; but with the average mammal smaller than a 
deer it is a case of "root, hog, or die." He must stand 
fast and take the heat and thirst as it finds him. 

In considering my hurriedly-made bird notes, it should 
be made known to the Reader that we saw perhaps 
twenty species of small birds which we could not possibly 
identify without killing some of them; and we were not 
disposed to shoot many of our feathered friends for that 

purpose. Already there have been killed in America 

316 



NOVEMBER BIRD LIFE 317 

too many millions of valuable birds for no other reason 
than to make zoological holidays, and possibly to label 
their skins and put them away in evil-smelling drawers. 

Of the bird life that we saw in the South-west, to me 
the most surprising thing was the scarcity of the Road- 
Runner.* Besides being surprising, it was a distinct dis- 
appointment, for I had long looked forward to an associa- 
tion with that gay and festive bird in its native land. 
Throughout our whole trip I saw only two individuals. 
One was in the suburbs of Tucson, and the other was in the 
Sonoyta Oasis; and all they did was to run with long 
strides into underbrush, and disappear. 

Beyond doubt, the Road-Runner is a bird of strange 
and erratic personality, as anyone may see in any well- 
equipped zoological garden. The long, strong and cap- 
able feet and legs of that feathered oddity were made to 
carry it through the world ; and right well do they perform 
their duty. From this bird's cradle to its grave life goes 
with a hop, skip and jump, all without visible effort, and 
seemingly as if done by automatic machinery. A Road- 
Runner will propel himself to the top of a four-foot stump 
by leg-power alone, without even a flit of a wing, and as 
easily as if it were done by a steel spring. 

In New York we have Road-Runners a-plenty in 
captivity, but for "showing off" they lack the natural race- 
course plains of the South-west. I longed to see one of 
them run a mile at top speed, and to learn something of 
their mental traits; but it was not to be. 

Mr. Howard Eaton writes me that he once saw three 

* Geococcyx calif ornianus. 



3i8 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Mexicans chase a Road-Runner for about three hundred 
yards, when it was driven into a mesquite bush, and 
caught unhurt. 

Strange to say, the Road-Runner is related to the 
cuckoos. Many persons think it is a "game bird," and 
related to the grouse, but it is not. Its queer, attenuated 
form, long and strong legs and powerful feet are fit indexes 
of its strange mentality and habits, and I heartily wish it 
were more numerous. 

Although Gambel's Quail* was plentiful throughout 
all save the lava-land portion of our trip, Mr. Phillips 
found it impossible to shoot that shrewd little bird in the 
usual way of the sportsman. For example: A covey of 
from eight to fifteen birds will reveal itself close by the 
roadside, and every bird will sit tight, behind his mesquite 
or other bush, until the hunter is really close up. Then 
you hear a sweet-voiced little command, saying in dulcet 
tones, "Sweet! Sweet! Quit-quit!'' and a few seconds 
later they begin to run. 

Gun in hand you stalk up to flush the flock, in order 
to take the birds on the wing, as a real sportsman should. 
But they will not rise! With heads and necks held stiffly 
up, and plumes pointing forward rudder-like, as if to steer 
their course, they run and dodge to and fro over the bare 
ground between the bushes, in a most tantalizing way. 
If you force any of the birds to rise, three or four will fly 
up, about four or five feet only, but not nearly high enough 
to clear the tops of the bushes, and after a flight of only 
a few yards, down they go again into the sheltering arms 

* Lophortyx gambelii. 



NOVEMBER BIRD LIFE 319 

of the brush. Now and then you can see a bird gliding 
for a brief instant across an opening, to be swallowed up 
the next; but if you rely solely upon wing-shooting, you 
may go away empty-handed and vexed. 

After his first two hours' shooting at Gambel's Quail 
on the wing, and the expenditure of many cartridges, Mr. 
Phillips returned to the wagons red in the face, hot and 
vexed, with only two birds! And yet he is an exception- 
ally skilful wing-shot. 

"The blamed little beggars wont rise!'' he wrathfully 
announced, as one who has been treated unfairly. 

"Of course they won't!' said the Doctor cheerfully. 
"You've got to shoot them as they run on the ground in 
order to get any; and you will have to shoot mighty well 
to get many, even in that way. On these deserts it isn't 
in good form for a quail to rise and fly clear of the bushes." 

John M. saw a great light, and his tactics changed 
accordingly. We saw hundreds of quail, and on some 
days Mr. Phillips killed one for each member of the party. 
When alive, Gambel's Quail is both beautiful and in- 
teresting. Kill it and cook it, and it is a "tajous" bird. 
Only idle people can afford to eat it regularly. I think a 
man like Mr. Sykes, or the Doctor, or Mr. Phillips could 
starve to death on an exclusive diet of those small birds. 
No sooner do you begin to grow interested in one of them 
than it is gone; and there is mighty small nourishment in 
the memory of a has-been. 

In the books and museums — but nowhere else — 
Gambel's Quail becomes "Gambel's Partridge^" because 
the dear old fossiliferous A. O. U. has solemnly so elected; 



320 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

but on the deserts wherein the bird Hves, that fiat is a very- 
dead letter. The bird is a plumed understudy of the 
more beautiful valley quail — or "partridge" — of the 
Pacific coast. Owing to the wide dispersal of this species 
throughout vast tracts of arboreal desert, the scarcity of 
hunters and the delightful cost of cartridges, it will be 
many a day ere it is seriously threatened with extermina- 
tion. Indeed, it would not be surprising if Gambel's 
Quail were the last upland game bird of the United States 
to be completely annihiliated under the grinding hob- 
nailed hoof of "civilization." We found it along our 
route all the way from Tucson to the lava-fields, and one 
covey was seen upon the lava. 

On leaving Tucson over the westward trail, the nests 
of the Cactus Wren* attract immediate attention. I have 
it down in my notes of November 2nd, that "we saw about 
twenty-five nests in the tree-choya cactus, but none in 
bushes." Now perhaps this was a string of coincidences. 
Perhaps the Cactus Wren cannot and does not reason 
from premise hawk to cactus-spine conclusion; but there 
are men in Arizona and in New York also who believe 
that it does, and can show good cause for doing so. 

Every reasoning being knows full well that it is far 
more difficult, and also more disagreeable, to build a nest 
in the geographical centre of a tree choya, encountering 
the while about two thousand wicked spines, than it would 
be to build in a mesquite or a palo verde. Anyone who 
will deny this is simply hopeless. This being true, it is 
impossible to imagine a bird building in the most difficult 

*Heleodytes brunneicapillus. 



NOVEMBER BIRD LIFE 321 

and painful place without a reason for doing so, and much 
more of a reason than the mechanical example of an 
ancestor. Birds are not dull in adapting themselves to 
new conditions! The robins of Gardiner's Island, New 
York, very quickly learned that the absence of cats and 
bad boys rendered it perfectly safe to build within two 
feet of the ground; and most certainly there was in that 
neither instinct nor example, but precisely the reverse! 
It was reason. They formulated a theory, tried it and 
found that it was correct. 

In many cases we were puzzled to understand how it 
is possible for a Cactus Wren — which is fully three times 
the size of an ordinary house-wren — to penetrate to the 
interior of a tree choya, and build an elaborate nest in a 
space that seems hopelessly small. But the little brain of 
that small feathered creature contains at least one concrete 
idea — the survival of the fittest; and to him there is none 
so fit as himself. The unwise birds who builded in the 
bushes have (apparently) been exterminated by the hawks, 
long ago. 

The nest of the Cactus Wren seems to consist of long, 
straight stems of fine grass, and without the entrance hole 
each home looks as if someone had carefully pushed a big 
handful of dry stems of blue-grass into the centre of the 
tree-choyas' spiny top. The bird itself does not look in 
the very least like the pert and coquettish house-wren of 
our boyhood days — now rarely seen where the accursed 
English sparrow predominates. It looks more like a long- 
billed dark-gray thrush than a wren, and it carries its tail 
pointing below the horizon. For all that, however, it is 



322 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

a very interesting bird, and we wish it a million years of 
longevity. 

There are other birds besides the Cactus Wren which 
know a safe nesting-place when they see it. Within a 
stone's throw of Dr. MacDougal's spacious and inviting 
veranda in Tucson, a Crissal Thrasher* has nested in a 
large tree choya which has been grown on the grounds. 
This Thrasher is closely related to the cactus wren, but 
when not sociably haunting the habitations of men it is 
usually found in rocky arroyos, or canons. 

By way of variety, the Western Red-Tailed Hawkf 
occasionally builds its nest in a giant cactus. Of course 
it may be that the nest of a hawk is not so placed for safe- 
keeping; for it would seem as if every Red-Tail can fend 
for himself. The court merely notes the exception. 

I think we saw about fifteen hawks of this species — 
broad of wing, stately in flight and imposing at rest on 
tall cactus or dead mesquite stub. Dr. MacDougal shot 
one on the Sonoyta River, at Agua Dulce, in order that we 
might identify it and ascertain its food habits in Novem- 
ber; but its stomach was empty. 

I have already mentioned the death of a Western 
Horned OwlJ in the level plain of the Cubo Valley. 
Others were heard at night in the Sonoyta Valley. 

North of the international boundary, where the giant 
cacti grow tall and wide, the Red-Shafted Flickers§ drill 
them where they list, and nest in them. The digging is 
easy, the interior is hospitable, cool and moist in the fierce 

*Toxosionia crissalis. XBubo virginianus pallescens. 

^Buteo borealis calurus. ^ Cola pies cafer collaris. 



NOVEMBER BIRD LIFE 323 

heat of summer, and for a nesting-place nothing more Is 
required. Of those conspicuous and attractive birds we 
saw many — perhaps twenty-five or thirty; and they 
seemed to be enjoying Arizona as greatly as we were. 
We were then about on the southern boundary of that 
species, which does not go far below the International 
demarcation. 

From the hour that we left Tucson I watched for the 
Phalnopepla, and was rewarded by seeing five flocks, with 
about eight or ten birds In each. They occurred at wide 
Intervals, from the Cubo Valley to MacDougal Pass, 
within eighteen miles of the Gulf of California. In 
manner they were not at that time phenomenally Interest- 
ing; for they just sat. In appearance they were very 
much like small blue-jays dyed blue-black, or dark purple. 
You recognize It most easily and surely by Its jaunty crest 
and Its long, square-ended tall. The white markings on 
the wing feathers are not visible when the bird Is at rest. 
This Is the bird which In the breeding season loves to cut 
capers In mId-aIr, such as dropping suddenly and swiftly 
from on high. In November, however, the Phalnopepla, 
as we saw It, Is quiet and undemonstrative, even unto 
dulness. 

Ravens were omnipresent, and I think that on several 
occasions we saw Crows, also. We killed none of either 
species, however, and there were times when It was Im- 
possible to tell when the Crows left off^ and the Ravens 
began. Now, at the Papago Tanks, some of the Ravens 
that flocked around the mountain-sheep works were so 
small I am even yet In doubt about their real identity. 



324 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

They were so very tame and trustful of us that we were 
unwilling to kill one. It was not that a Raven could not 
very well be spared from the flock of thirty or forty that 
hung around my work-table, and ate the meat-scraps 
that we gave them; but we were unwilling to kill any bird 
that had trusted to our honour to the extent of placing his 
life in our hands. They came almost fearlessly within 
fifteen yards of us. 

But, alas! In spite of the example set by four of us, 
a murder was committed. While we were away at the 
Tule Tanks and Pinacate, leaving Jess Jenkins and George 
Saunders to watch the camp, one of those men actually 
broke the compact, and killed a Raven, close to my table. 
The result was that every Raven immediately left that camp, 
and returned no more! On our return we found the camp 
quite silent and deserted, and immediately asked what had 
become of the Ravens. Then the wretched story came out; 
and we were much displeased by the blot on our es- 
cutcheon. 

A few Golden Eagles were seen, perhaps half a dozen 
in all, but not a white-head was noted. At the Papago 
Tanks Mr. Phillips saw a flock of about twenty Doves 
that came down in the evening twilight to quench their 
thirst. To my great surprise. Doves of all species proved 
to be very scarce between Tucson and the Gulf. I did 
not see more than a dozen indiv duals, all told, and those 
were Mourning Doves, such as some misguided sportsmen 
in California, and also some portions of the South, hunt 
and kill as ** game." Great "game" indeed are they; and 
mighty hard up for " sport" must be the men who seriously 



NOVEMBER BIRD LIFE 325 

hunt them! The American farmer can ill afford the loss 
of such valuable allies in the war on weeds. 

On our return from the Pinacate country, the last 
waters of the Sonoyta River sank into the sand opposite 
the Playa Salada, near Agua Dulce. The last struggling 
pools were fairly swarming with minnows, all of which 
were doomed to quick annihilation by the drying-up of 
their home waters. It was there that I noticed an Am- 
erican Bittern* fishing for dear life. He had what may 
well be called a cinch; for the devoted minnows were 
quite at his mercy. He worked as if he had taken a con- 
tract to catch all those 565 minnows, and place them 
where they would be of some benefit to the world, before 
the receding waters could leave them wasting their sweet- 
ness on the desert air. I was so pleased to see Botaurus 
that I was tempted to go over and shake hands with him, 
and ask him when he left "the States." 

It was at Sonoyta, on the day before our departure 
for Gila Bend, that I was treated to a most unexpected 
acquaintance with a bird of rare mental poise. While 
we were encamped on the north bank of Sonoyta River, 
squaring accounts with the native purveyors of horses, 
hay and wagons, I followed the good example of the 
Doctor and Mr. Phillips to the extent of taking a bath in 
the stream. At that point the stream bed was so narrow 
that between banks it was not more than fifteen feet wide. 

The banks were completely masked by bushes, and on 
the south side the jungle growth was quite dense. Choos- 
ing a tiny bank of clean sand, I quickly took my pour- 

* Botaurus lentiginosus. 



• 



326 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

bath — of water that was fearfully cold — and without any 
undue lingering proceeded to dress. In that operation 
there was no need for haste, and it proceeded slowly and 
in dignified silence. I stood on my little sand-bank facing 
the stream, and had reached thirdly, when to my amaze- 
ment a slaty-blue bird silently walked out of its conceal- 
ment under the roots of a mesquite tree. It was an 
American Coot, or Mud-Hen,* and after it had calmly 
looked me over, and waded out into the shallow current, 
it was so near that I could have touched it with a carriage- 
whip. 

I stood fairly spell-bound with surprise and pleasure, 
and decided to give the stranger a time exposure, to see 
what it would do. It was very evident that the bird was 
fully aware of my existence, for it frequently cocked its 
head, and looked me squarely in the eyes. But it was by 
no means disposed to lose valuable time in speculating 
upon the intentions of a total stranger. Slowly it walked 
up stream, where the current was only three inches deep, 
sharply looking from side to side for aquatic insects, or 
anything else worthy of a Coot's serious attention. It 
was in no more haste than a sloth, but went slowly and 
solemnly, stalking for prey. 

Gradually it drew away from me, and when, at last, 
I felt compelled to continue my dressing operations, the 
bird watched me without the slightest manifestation of 
alarm. We "took stock'* of each other, to the last avail- 
able moment; and I really believe that when I again see 
that Coot I will know him at sight. He has a whitish bill, 

*FuHca americana. 



NOVEMBER BIRD LIFE 327 

a very bright eye and scalloped toes, by which tokens I can 
recognize him anywhere. 

Finally I spoke to him quietly and gingerly, as a gentle- 
man always addresses a stranger when there has been no 
formal introduction. My advances were received with 
brisk confidence, and caused no alarm. When the day- 
light was about to be turned ojfif, I climbed the bank and 
left Fulica still stalking silently up the stream, seeking 
what he might devour, but not at all like the roaring Hon 
of holy writ. 

The reptilian Hfe observed during our outing to Pina- 
cate cut a ridiculously small figure. The reason for this 
was not entirely clear, for although the nights were cold, 
the days were warm enough to justify any Arizona reptile 
in pursuing the even tenor of its way. 

We saw no Gila Monsters, no Collared Lizards, no 
Spotted Lizards, no Sidewinder Rattlesnakes — which I 
ardently longed to obtain alive — and only three Rattlers, 
all told. I saw about eight Horned Lizards (which are 
universally known as Horned ** Toads"), one of which was 
on the lava field. The latter was dark brown, like the 
lava. It was my plan to collect some of those lizards on 
the return journey, alive — and then by ill luck we saw 
only one more specimen. That was captured for me by 
the Doctor, and placed in one of the dark caverns of his 
multi-pocket hunting-coat, after which it never again 
could be found. He said it escaped; but I believe it is 
still there. 

We saw a few small lizards, of no special colours, 
inhabiting clumps of creosote bushes, three Texas Dia- 



328 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

mond-Backed Rattlesnakes, as already mentioned, and 
one dreadfully emaciated Frog, which came up out of 
Wall's Well in a pail of water, mighty thankful for the 
deliverance. We saw no other serpents of any kind, no 
tortoises or terrapins, and no amphibians save the Frog 
mentioned above. 

The reader must not infer, however, that we saw any- 
thing like a proper representation of the reptilian life of 
that region as it appears in spring and summer. Un- 
doubtedly the Sonoyta Valley must contain quite a number 
of species of serpents and amphibians of which in Novem- 
ber we saw nothing. I am not attempting to do more than 
to mention the wild creatures that were still afoot at the 
beginning of the winter season, when bird life and reptilian 
life are both at a low ebb. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 

Bird's-eye View of the Genus Ovis — Its Vanishing Point at Pinacate — 
Straight Ovis canadensis — ^The Making of a New Form — ^Colours — • 
Size — The Feet — The Pelage — The Horns, Skull and Teeth — • 
Habits — Geographical Distribution in Mexico — Summary of Facts 
and Conclusions. 

Tardily and slowly, the mountain sheep of old Mexico 
are being discovered and disclosed to the world. They 
are keenly interesting, because they represent the end of 
the great chain of sheep which stretches almost without a 
break from the aoudad of the Barbary States of north 
Africa to its jumping-off place at Pinacate and in Lower 
California. The series runs in the following order: 

Aoudad, monflon, arcal sheep, burrhel, Thibetan 
argali, Marco Polo's sheep, Siberian argali, Kamchatkan 
sheep, white sheep, black sheep and big-horn. Of course 
this brief enumeration does not take into account several 
other species, and numerous sub-species, some of which 
require careful study. 

It is my belief that the mountain sheep, genus Ovis, 
originated in the Altai Mountains of western Mongolia, 
and from that centre radiated in three directions. One 
of the offshoots went southward into the upper regions of 
Hindustan, another south-westward to the Barbary States, 

329 



330 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

and the most vigorous of all spread northward toward 
Bering Strait. It seems beyond reasonable question that 
the genus easily crossed Bering Strait, then bore away 
southward along the various west-American mountain 
systems, producing in turn the white sheep of Alaska, the 
black sheep of northern British Columbia, the big-horn 
of the American Rockies and the Mexican sheep of north- 
ern Chihuahua. 

In north-western Sonora we found ourselves at the 
vanishing point of the genus in America. As we will 
point out later on, a few pioneers of Ovis have been seen 
at a point on the mainland opposite Tiburon Island. 
In Lower California it exists more than half-way 
down the peninsula. To the zoologist, the vanishing 
point of a great mammalian genus, with a range that 
half encircles the globe, is an interesting field for obser- 
vation. 

For all present purposes at least, we may say that at 
Pinacate the genus Ovis is finally vanquished by the great 
desert barrier known as the Sonoran Region, where the 
heat is fiercest, the food is scarcest and the water supply 
is either very scanty, or non-existent. We have be- 
fore this seen, and attempted to set forth, the Big-Horn 
species (0. canadensis) at its culminating point, in south- 
eastern British Columbia. Judge, then, the interest with 
which we hunted, shot, dissected and preserved adult 
specimens of the same species at the point where it throws 
up the sponge to the torrid terrors of the Sonoran deserts. 
And what did we find ? 

In the first place, the Mountain Sheep of Pinacate is 




•^ Q o 
>-< iJ '-' "^ 






O C CIh 



1) tu • 
r-; r; ^ 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 331 

the straight, old-fashioned Big-Horn — Ovis canadensis — 
no more and no less. This makes it far more interesting 
than if it had already differentiated, through isolation, into 
a new form. Those animals are now so nearly isolated 
that structural changes, reproduced by the inbreeding that 
undoubtedly is going on, are hard at work upon them, 
attempting to mould them into a different form from the 
typical parent stock. 

By reason of a very scanty food supply in the dry 
seasons, little water, long periods of thirst and undoubted 
suffering from the fierce heat of summer, the Big-Horn of 
Pinacate is to-day distinctly smaller than his brothers in 
Wyoming, Montana and British Columbia. His hair is 
very short, thin and stiff; his feet are much smaller; his 
tail is very long (ten caudal vertebrae) and ridiculously 
short-haired; his weight is from fifty to seventy-five pounds 
under the northern average. His horns often become so 
dry and brittle that large patches scale off from their 
surfaces and materially reduce their diameter. It is quite 
worth while to consider these characters separately, taking 
them in the order of their importance. 

Colours.— kmong the seven Mountain Sheep of 
Pinacate that we killed in November, three others killed 
in Wyoming in November, three taken in "Goat Mountain 
Park," British Columbia, in September, and several 
winter-killed heads from Banff, now in my possession, I 
have been unable to detect any colour variations that are 
noteworthy. In any given locality, the colours of the 
sheep that inhabit it show numerous trifling individual 
variations. The noses of the freshly mounted heads from 



332 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Pinacate to-day are whiter than some of those from British 
Columbia; but it is probable that a good washing of the 
latter would wipe out the trifling differences that seem to 
exist. 

I expected to find the pelage of the Pinacate sheep 
bleached out by the heat, and strongly inclined to gray 
tones, or the salmon pink of the sheep killed by Nelson in 
July in the Funeral Mountains; but we found nothing of 
the kind. The smoky-brown colours of our new specimens 
were just as deep and rich as they were on the British 
Columbian specimens; and from head to tail-tip the colour 
pattern was precisely the same. The only specimen 
which showed anything approaching a difference in body- 
colour was the "old residenter" whose entire skin was 
sent to the Carnegie Museum. His body-colour was, 
through age^ not quite so deep as it was on the other six 
which passed through my hands. I preserved the pelts 
of two, for general reference, and they are available in 
the Carnegie Museum. The colours of the heads taken 
by Messrs. Sampson and Litchfield on the Peninsula, op- 
posite Pinacate, in November, are precisely the same in 
colour, pelage and horns as our specimens, and I think 
are Ovis canadensis. 

Size. — It is under this head that a noteworthy differ- 
ence appears. The dimensions of the Mexican *' Carnegie 
Ram" tell the story, especially when set down in compar- 
ison with those of specimens from farther north. In 
everything save weight it was a large specimen — for Pina- 
cate. Owing to its extreme age — as shown by the fearfully 
worn condition of its incisors, it had fed with difficulty 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 333 

and was positively thin in flesh. Had it been five years 
younger, it very probably would have been forty pounds 
heavier. 



DIMENSIONS OF ADULT MALE BIG-HORN SHEEP, FROM THREE LOCALITIES 





Pinacate, 
Mexico. 


Wyoming. 


S.-E. Br. 
Columbia. 


Age 


13 years ? 
37 inches 
54 inches 
47I inches 
II inches 
8^ inches 
5 inches 
192J lbs. 


7 years 
40 inches 
58 inches 
44 inches 
12 inches 

3 inches 


13 years 
41 inches 
69 inches* 
53 inchesf 
12 inches 
I of inches 

316 lbs. 


6^ 

Height at shoulders 


Length of head and body 

Girth behind fore le? 



Circumference of muzzle 

Circumference of front hoof. . . . 

Tail, length to end of vertebrae. 

Weight 





I do not mean to say that the Pinacate sheep recorded 
above was an extra-large specimen, but I do think that, 
like the two recorded from farther north, it was above the 
average. The first ram that I shot seemed to measure 
larger; but it was measured under serious disadvantages, 
and the chances for error were so numerous that I think 
it best to leave the figures unpublished. Unfortunately, 
also, my scales were not available at the right time to 
ascertain its weight; but it was at least forty pounds 
heavier than Mr. Phillips's first specimen, recorded 
above. 

The Feet. — The feet of one of our largest Pinacate 
sheep (preserved and brought home) are very noticeably 

* Evidently not measured as were the other two specimens, both of which were 
measured by the author. 

t Probably distended by gas. 



334 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

smaller than those of Mr. Phillips's ** Carnegie Ram" from 
British Columbia. Note the following differences in 
measurement: 





Pinacate 
Ram. 


British Columbia 
Ram. 


Greatest circumference of front hoof 

Greatest width of front hoof 


8^ inches 
2^ inches 
3 inches 


lof inches 
2f inches 
3^ inches 


Greatest length of front hoof 





In general bulk, with the two hoofs upturned side by 
side, the foot of the British Columbian ram seems at least 
one-quarter larger than the other. The under surface of 
the former shows no particular wear from the rocks, and is 
just as Nature made it,* whereas the bottom of the 
Pinacate hoof has been quite worn by continuous contact 
with the sharp lava, and the points of the toes have been 
rounded upward as if with a rasp. The cup-shaped form 
of the northern hoof has totally disappeared from the 
southern hoof, and the bottom of the latter is quite flat 
and hard ; all of which is precisely in line with what might 
be expected from life on the lava. 

The Pelage. — As before remarked, the hair of the 
Pinacate sheep is thin, short, stiff and dry, and next 
to the skin has practically none of the fine, woolly hair 
that is often found on specimens farther north. It is only 
about one-half the length (or less) that one finds on the 
mountain sheep of Wyoming and British Columbia in 
November. It resembles the coat of the monflon much 

*See "Camp-Fires in the Canadian Rockies," page 102. 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 335 

more than it does that of the Big-Horn. As a result, the 
mounted heads of our sheep seem to have very small and 
poorly nourished necks, quite unlike those of British 
Columbian sheep. Of course the necks are small, but 
the scanty pelage is half to blame for their extra-small 
appearance. 

The Horns. — It is under this head that nearly all big- 
game hunters become keenly interested. We were ex- 
ceedingly fortunate in finding fully adult rams with large 
horns. Of the seven rams shot by our party, four carried 
extra-large horns — for American mountain sheep, any- 
where — as the following table of measurements will show: 

HORN MEASUREMENTS OF FIVE PINACATE MOUNTAIN SHEEP 



All as measured in 

inches, in November, 1907, 

when fresh. 


J. M. P. 

No. I 

' Museum 

Ram." 


J. M. P. 

No. 2 
" Sykes's 
Ram." 


J. M. P. 

No. 3 

" Rattled 

Ram." 


W. T. H. 

No. I 

"Running 

Ram." 


W. T. H. 
No. 2 
"Old 

Curiosity." 


As;e in years 


13 

Hi 

Sh 

37i 

i6i 


5 

Hi 
small 

3i 

22 


ID 
15 
13 

6 
36 

20^ 
19 


7 
17 

3f 
29i 

20^ 

i9i 


II 

12 

5f 

33 

20 

14 


Circumference at base 

Circumference i8 in. from base 
Circumference i in. from tip . 

Length on outer curve 

Widest spread, outside 

^nrfiid between tins 









From these measurements it will be noted that the 
horns of four out of the seven rams taken by our party 
were much larger in proportion to the stature of the wearers 
than are the horns of other North American sheep. The 
food of the Pinacate sheep must contain an unusual pro- 
portion of horn-producing material. And yet, the horns 
of the three oldest rams were reduced in basal circumfer- 



336 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

ence by the flaking ofif of particles, through the excessive 
heat and dryness of that region, probably supplemented 
by fighting. One pair of horns had around the base of 
each a ring of dead and disintegrated horn material which 
still was held by the hair, showing that the weathering 
process proceeding before our eyes had actually reduced 
the basal circumference of each horn by at least an inch! 
The horns of the young rams were quite normal, and free 
from this deterioration. 

In their form, there is not in any one of these horns 
a single feature of difference between them and the horns 
of northern Big-Horns save bulk and tropical dryness. 
The same may be said of the nine heads collected by 
Litchfield and Sampson. Taken by themselves, they 
seem big, and imposing; but hang the largest of the three 
heads listed above beside the giant Banff head presented 
by the writer to the National Collection of Heads and 
Horns, and they seem positively small! My seventeen- 
inch head seems almost ridiculous by the side of the 
monster whose horns measure only sixteen and one-half 
inches in basal circumference; for in the former the 
horn material is concentrated in the base, while in the 
latter the base is really small in comparison with the im- 
mense bulk beyond it. This is a very striking illustration 
— and I hope all my readers will remember it — of the 
great folly of judging sheep horns on their basal circum- 
ference alone. There are four measurements that should 
be compared before deciding which specimen is really the 
largest and "the finest." 

None of our sheep horns were seriously broken or 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 337 

"broomed" at their tips, but three were badly scarified 
on their upper surfaces, where they strike together when 
fighting. The horns of the old rams were very dry, and 
in fighting head to head large scales of horn evidently had 
been flaked off by the blows they had received. This was 
particularly noticeable on the horns of Mr. Phillips's Ram 
No. 3, the circumference of which had been materially 
reduced. Evidently that dry atmosphere acted upon 
those horns quite as it did on our finger-nails, which were 
so dry that they broke at the slightest touch of excuse. 

The horns of Mr. Phillips's Ram No. 3 (the "Rattled 
Ram") grew completely together on the top of the skull, 
not a shred of skin remaining between them. Owing to 
scaling off of large pieces from the top of the right horn of 
this specimen, it shows with remarkable clearness the 
process by which the horn of a mountain sheep is formed. 
It is as follows: 

Every sheep horn is built over and supported by a long 
and large wedge-shaped mass of porous bone called 
familiarly a horn-core. It is very large at the base, and 
about one-third of the way out toward the tip of an adult 
horn it terminates in a blunt, wedge-shaped point. Each 
year the horn material is poured out all over the outer 
surface of this horn-core, pushing out the already-formed 
horn as it accumulates, until it forms a complete sheath 
over the horn-core. In the north, this growth takes place 
in the spring, summer and autumn months of the year, 
and in winter, when food is scarce, it halts. On most 
sheep horns, the winter period is marked by a dark and 
sometimes deep crease. It is reasonable to suppose that 



338 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 



in Mexico the sheep make their horn-growth in winter, 
when the food is freshest and least parched by heat, and 
water is most abundant. 

The right horn of Mr. PhilHps's ram shows, with de- 




Left Horn of a Pinacate Mountain Sheep. 

Owing to scaling off, through heat, dryness and fighting, 
the annual rings of growth are particularly well shown. 
Note the manner in which one cornucopia of horn has 
grown within another. 



Hghtful clearness, the manner in which a whole series of 
annual cornucopias of horn material have successively 
grown into one another, and regularly pushed the old 
horn outward farther and farther from the horn-core. 
The progress of the horn year by year is quite unmistak- 
able, and is clearly shown in the accompanying illustration. 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 339 

Skulls, Dentition, etc.— I have compared the skulls 
of all the specimens mentioned above, and also a skull from 
the collection of Messrs. Litchfield and Sampson, with 
several skulls of Ovis canadensis from British Columbia, 
and have found no real differences. The profiles, denti- 
tion, length of tooth-row and everything else seem identi- 
cally the same. In view of the four new species and sub- 
species that have been created for south-western Mountain 
Sheep— some of them I think on slight provocation— it is 
rather interesting to find that the sheep of Pinacate, and of 
Lower California directly opposite, are genuine Ovts 
canadensis— formedy called for half a century O. montana. 
Habits.— AW that we know to-day of the ways of the 
Pinacate sheep can be written in a few words. 

I found in the stomach of the first ram shot the follow- 
ing food plants: 

Galleta grass, palo verde {Parkinsonia torreyana), 
white brittle-bush, flower-stalks only (Encelia farinosa), 
"torote prieto," Terebinthus microphylla and Sphceralcea. 
Owing to the scarcity of other food, I think it ex- 
tremely probable that the species named above are fed 
upon throughout the year. Beyond doubt, they eat the 
fruit of all species of low-growing cacti, and mesquite 
beans whenever any are available. The sheep are much 
in the habit of bedding down and resting in deep niches 
in the lava, evidently to escape the glare and heat of the 
sun. In south-eastern California, Mr. Will Frakes found 
that the sheep of those desert mountains are in the habit 
of seeking the water-holes at night, to drink. He says 
that they are very much on the alert, sleep fitfully and 



340 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

awaken about every fifteen minutes to look about for 
enemies. Up to this date, Mr. Frakes has caught seven- 
teen sheep, chiefly by means of steel traps set in their 
trails, but thus far none have bred in captivity. They are 
nervous animals, and during the first month that they are 
handled by men they are prone to dash about and injure 
either the keepers or themselves, or both. 

Mr. Frakes states that the scourge of the sheep in 
captivity is pneumonia; and that when once that disease 
is fairly established, it is well-nigh impossible to cure it. 
Even on its native mountain-top, a captured sheep often 
takes cold and contracts pneumonia within a few hours 
after its capture. 

Geographical Distribution in Mexico. — Beginning 
about one hundred miles below the international boundary, 
and extending two-thirds of the way down toward its 
terminus, the mountainous peninsula of Lower California 
is inhabited by bands of mountain sheep. Dr. Mac- 
Dougal saw several sheep in the mountains only eight 
miles inland from the barren and uninhabited spot marked 
San Felipe, near the head of the Gulf. 

In 1895, near the north end of the northern range of 
San Pedro Martir Mountains, about Latitude 31°, Mr. 
George H. Gould, of San Diego, killed a magnificent ram 
whose head is now historic. It is not only by far the finest 
that ever has come out of Mexico (s. f. a. k.), but it is also 
one of the finest heads ever taken in North America by a 
sportsman. Its measurements are as follows: Circum- 
ference, i6| inches; circumference eighteen inches from 
base, 13 inches, and one inch from tip, 4I inches; length 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 341 

on curve, 42 J inches; spread, 25I inches. This head has 
been presented by Mr. Gould to the National Collection of 
Heads and Horns, and is now at the Zoological Park. It 
appears to be straight Ovis canadensis. 

In November, 1907, while we were hunting sheep on 
the Pinacate lava fields, Messrs. Henry Sampson, Jr., 
and E. H. Litchfield, Jr., were similarly engaged on the 
Peninsula, north-westward of us. They had excellent 
success, and bagged eleven rams, some of which were fine 
in horns, but, like all of ours, poorly provided with pelage. 
Sheep are found within measurable distance of San 
Quentin, and it was somewhere inland from that port that 
the late William Harriman found a mountain-sheep lamb, 
on a Mexican ranch, purchased and successfully shipped 
it to the New York Zoological Park. It lived in New 
York about six months and presently succumbed to the 
great scourge of captive wild sheep — pneumonia. 

Mr. George F. Norton, of New York, recently hunted 
sheep about seventy miles eastward of San Quentin, but 
found very few specimens. The meat-hunters had almost 
exterminated them. At an old meat-hunter's camping- 
place, in a grove of palms, thirty heads were found. It 
is no longer worth while to go sheep hunting from San 
Quentin. 

In the vicinity of Magdalena Bay, sheep are hunted 
successfully by the residents; and various other localities 
on the Peninsula have furnished specimens. 

In Arizona, mountain sheep are to-day found in the 
Colorado Canon, on San Francisco Mountain, in the 
Santa Catalina range, on the Gila Mountains, the Tinajas 



342 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

Altas and on the Quitovaquita range, near the Sonoyta 
Oasis. A very few years ago some cowboys roped and 
caught a ram that came down to Quitovaquita village to 
drink at the beautiful spring that rises in the United 
States about a hundred feet north of the international 
boundary, and flows southward into the Sonoyta. That 
was the last sheep ever seen in that vicinity. We found 
no sheep horns in any of the settlements on the Sonoyta. 

Regarding the identity of the sheep of southern 
California and the lower Peninsula, I have no positive 
first-hand information. Those of California have been 
(rather hastily ?) credited to Ovis nelsoni; and those col- 
lected by Mr. E. Heller, of the Field Museum, in the San 
Pedro Martir Mountains of Lower California, were de- 
scribed by Mr. D. G. Elliot as Ovis cervina cremnobates; 
which, being interpreted, means a sub-species of the 
longest-known Big-Horn. I think that both nelsoni and 
cremnobates are open to doubt, and I venture to predict 
that whenever an extensive series of specimens has been 
brought together the claims of both those groups to separate 
recognition will disappear. It is to be remembered that 
Ovis nelsoni was founded on specimens collected in July 
— the month of all months wherein the pelage of a North 
American ruminant gives but very slight indications of 
the real colours it will assume when perfectly developed, 
later on. 

On the mainland of Mexico, the first mountain sheep 
found and reported to zoologists were in the mountains 
around Lake Santa Maria, in northern Chihuahua, about 
seventy-five miles south-west of El Paso. On the eight 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 343 

specimens collected there by E. W. Nelson in 1899, Dr. 
C. Hart Merriam founded the new species Ovis mexicanus; 
and it has come to stay. It is distinguished by its very 
large ears and large molar teeth, and a forehead that is 
noticably less concave than that of the Big-Horn (0. 
canadensis). Unfortunately, the home of the Mexican 
Mountain Sheep was so easily reached by hunters from 
the United States, and the number of sheep within it was 
so small, that the species has already been almost extermi- 
nated in its type locality! Four years ago two experienced 
American sportsmen went thither, and hunted diligently, 
but found no sheep. 

In 1898, Mr. Willard D. Johnson, of the U. S. Geolog- 
ical Survey, observed three living mountain sheep in the 
Seri Mountains, half-way down the eastern shore of the 
Gulf of California, opposite Tiburon Island. Shortly 
afterward Mr. Johnson furnished me a record of his find, 
and in it he made the following statement: 

*'As observed at a distance of one hundred and fifty 
yards, the adult male bore no visible marks of difference 
from Ovis montana [now canadensis] as seen by me in 

Nevada." 

Judging from all present information, the state of facts 
regarding the mountain sheep of Mexico appears to stand 

as follows: 

1. East of the Sierra Madre (the "Mother Range" 
of the Rockies), there exists a completely isolated group 
of sheep which have developed into a form that is truly and 
visibly distinct, and justly called Ovis mexicanus. 

2. Unless the remnant individuals of this species {if 



344 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

there are any!) are quickly and rigidly protected by the 
Mexican government, the species will be as dead as the 
dodo in ten brief years. 

3. The old-fashioned Rocky Mountain Big-Horn 
comes down the Colorado River and its tributaries from 
Colorado and Utah, through Arizona to Sonoyta and 
Pinacate. With the exception of a few particularly hardy 
stragglers that have pushed a little farther south along the 
coast, the species stops at Pinacate on the north-eastern 
shore of the Gulf of California. 

4. The sheep of Pinacate could easily be exterminated 
in three years or less, by the Mexicans of the Sonoyta 
Valley for meat, or by the scores of American sportsmen 
who are willing to go to the farthest corner of Hades itself 
for mountain sheep. 

5. It is very unlikely that the mountain sheep of the 
bias boundary between California and Nevada, of southern 
California and Lower California, are really a distinct group. 

6. All the mountain sheep of Mexico should be pro- 
tected forthwith. Without quick and effective protection, 
all the sheep of Mexico will disappear, forever, and it will 
take place so quickly that the world will be surprised by 
the news that it has taken place. In that dry land, the big 
game holds on by a very narrow margin of safety. Its 
herds are small and easily found, and the average resident 
cares not one rap for posterity, the future, or aught else 
save the meat supply of the present hour. 

Since the foregoing was written, an incident of im- 
portance to the mountain sheep of Mexico has taken form. 



THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP OF MEXICO 345 

On June 28, 1908, the Los Angeles Times published a care- 
fully prepared account, with full details and illustrations, 
of a hunting trip for mountain sheep made in May, 1908, 
by two men and one woman of the south-western United 
States, to the hinterland of Magdalena Bay, Lower Cali- 
fornia. That was in the lambing-time of the animals 
that the party went to hunt — a period in which most 
sportsmen believe that big game should be immune from 
attack. 

According to the newspaper, the two sportsmen and 
one sportswoman killed seventeen sheep, some of which 
were ewes, with nursing Iambs ! The illustration showing 
the hunters and the trophies distinctly reveals the skulls 
of three female sheep. It was stated in the text that one 
of the principal members of the party proposed to place 
some of the sheep remains in a museum. 

The slaughter of seventeen sheep as the "bag" of 
three hunters, and the published statement in the story 
of it that Mexico is wholly without game laws, compelled 
me to lay the available facts in the case before the Mexi- 
can government, and suggest the desirability of the im- 
mediate enactment of game laws providing for the proper 
protection of the mountain sheep and antelope of Mexico. 
It was suggested that the annual bag limit for mountain 
sheep be fixed at two rams, and that the protection of 
antelope be made absolute. 

On the day that the proof-sheets of this chapter came, 
I received from the Hon. Senor Olegario Molina, Secre- 
tary of the Department of Fomento, under date of August 
15th, a letter containing the following information: 



346 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

" Please accept my thanks for the trouble you have 
taken in this matter, in order to acquaint me with facts 
bearing upon the wanton extermination of valuable animal 
species. 

" The President of the Republic was at once placed in 
possession of the data which you sent me, and he has in- 
structed the Department of the Interior to collaborate 
with this Department, and draw up the necessary meas- 
ures to put an end to the evil, with as little delay as 
possible." 

It is profoundly gratifying to know that in a very short 
time — presumably only a few weeks — the mountain sheep 
of Mexico will be under strict protective laws. When the 
Republic of Mexico undertakes to protect its big game 
no American will be so unwise as to molest it unlawfully J 
for Mexico has the habit of dealing out swift and ade- 
quate punishment to law-breakers. 

The foregoing information is herein set forth for two 
purposes ; to inform all sportsmen that henceforth hunting 
in Mexico must be conducted in accordance with the pro- 
visions of protective game law, and also to advise the 
Reader that the mountain sheep of Mexico are to be no 
longer at the mercy of hunters who kill as many as they 
possibly can. 



CHAPTER XXV 

THE FLIGHT FROM PINACATE 

Mountains Being Buried by Sand — The Meeting of Desert and Lava — ■ 
Antelopes for Mr. Phillips — -The Represa Tank — The Mexican 
Wagon Wins Out — Heading for Gila Bend — The Ajo Valley — 'Gila 
Bend — ^A Dinner Fit for the Gods — Back to Civihzation. 

It is not my purpose to exhaust the staying-power of 
the Reader by a prolonged account of our return journey; 
for a very few words about it will be sufficient. 

When we broke camp at the Tule Tanks, on Novem- 
ber 226. (temp. 36° F.), we returned to our base camp by 
way of the granite mountains we had persistently scorned 
and shunned on our way in. We went in order to see 
how their condition might be affected by their peculiar 
surroundings; and they well repaid the extra travel that 
the V-shaped diversion involved. 

Those isolated mountains of clean gray granite stand 
where the eastwardly rolling waves of the littoral sands 
break against the high and ragged edge of the lava plateau. 
Although those mountains rftust be about seven hundred 
feet high at their highest point, they are now actually 
being buried by the desert sands that are remorselessly 
creeping up and over them from the west. Out in the 
sand-hills, about four miles (I think) beyond the border- 
land group, there stand two forlorn-looking granite peak- 

347 



348 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

lets that remind one of stranded hulks. Already they are 
half buried under the sand that has blown over them. 
Their look of hopeless abandonment is really pathetic, 
like the sight of a man drowning beyond the reach of 
succour. In a few more years they will be entirely buried, 
and in their place will appear two lofty sand-dunes, each 
three hundred feet high or more. Probably the young 
geologists of a hundred years hence will try hard to account 
for those wonderful manifestations of the sands, little 
dreaming of the granite peaks that lie sepulchred within. 
We tried to secure good photographic records of them, but 
they were so far away, and there was so much fine sand 
in the air, their details were not satisfactory. 

Our own Saw-Tooth Range has escaped being over- 
whelmed by the thirty-foot-thick plain of brown lava 
from the east only to be smothered later on by the inexo- 
rable sands. The accompanying illustration shows not 
only the progress of the sand up the western slopes of the 
mountains, but also the character of the edge of the sand- 
hills. The barrier of creosote bushes that has been thrown 
out a mile beyond the edge of the lava bravely is struggling 
to hold back the encroaching sands, but the effort will be 
in vain. In time — as compared with eternity — the sand 
will lie level with the top of the lava plain, and then it may 
even blithely drift on the Pinacate Range itself. Of a 
verity this old earth is still in the making. 

About half a mile north of the Saw-Tooth Range, in 
the big arroyo that comes down from the Papago Tanks, 
there was, on November 23rd, a fine pool of water, now 
duly marked on Mr. Sykes's map. The mountains make 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

The Side of the Awful Choya Peak 




From a photograph by J. M. Phillips 

The Sand Burial of the Saw-tooth Mountains 



THE FLIGHT FROM PINACATE 349 

for it an excellent water-sign, either from the gulf coast 
or elsewhere ; and from the west, the way to it lies directly 
through the most southerly notch. Anyone shipwrecked 
in Adair Bay might win out to civilization by coming to it 
across the sands, then following our trail to the Papago 
Tanks, and so on eastward to the watery portion of the 
Sonoyta. 

The need for an adult pair of antelopes was so pro- 
nounced that when we left the Papago Tanks and started 
homeward, Mr. Milton, Mr. Phillips and Charlie Foster 
took their horses and a modest pack outfit, and struck out 
straight across the lava for Agua Dulce, to hunt antelope 
on the way. At the Cerro Colorado (Crater No. i), 
practically on the very spot where a band was seen and 
shot at on November 12th, Mr. Phillips had the good luck 
to find and kill a fine pair of full-grown prong-horned 
antelopes, both of which were carefully preserved "for 
museum purposes." His struggles with Charlie Foster — 
to keep him from spoiling the game — were both interesting 
and exasperating, and demonstrated once more that, for 
unadulterated cussedness in the presence of game, the 
Mexican guide is entitled to the championship of the 
world. 

With the wagons and other impedimenta, the rest of us 
pulled back to the Sonoyta valley the way we came. The 
trip was full of interest but without accident, save the 
breaking of the reach of the Mexican wagon. On the 
morning of November 25th, we watered our horses at the 
Represa Tank, a half mile south of the Camino del 
Diablo, on the edge of the Tule Desert. It is close beside 



350 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

the last granite mountains south of the trail as you enter 
that desert from the east. A very curious layout of stone 
has been carefully built as a face for the western side of the 
dam across the notch wherein the tank lies. It looks like 
a series of foundations for a row of eight-by-ten houses 
backed up against a two-hundred-foot stone wall that 
extends the whole length of the dam. The stone rectan- 
gles are evenly spaced apart, and the walls are all of a uni- 
form height. I have asked a dozen men to tell me the 
answer to this curious conundrum in stone; but thus far 
no one has been able to do so, and I am still guessing. 

We tarried in the Sonoyta settlement only just long 
enough to adjust our business affairs and repack our 
wagons. Glory be, we brought in *'the Mexican wagon" 
intact, and under its own steam! It was true that its left 
hind wheel had collapsed on the axle, the tongue had been 
broken by those wild mules, a single-tree had worn in two, 
half a foot had been broken out of the middle of the reach 
and the brake had ceased to work. But Mr. Sykes had 
fixed all those little trifles, and the wagon as a whole was 
intact. Mr. Escalente accepted it without imposing 
demurrage, and we were happy in having achieved the 
impossible. 

El Teniente Medina was on hand to see us safely 
across the boundary, and after parting from him and our 
good friends Jeff Milton and George Saunders, with many 
expressions of mutual regard and regret, we mounted our 
wagons once more and fled northward as fast as we could 

go- 
Owing to the shortness of my time, Dr. MacDougal 



THE FLIGHT FROM PINACATE 351 

decided that we should strike north to Gila Bend, on the 
railroad, and thereby save at least two days' time. 

With two dry camps and one wet one, we made the 
run of ninety miles in a little more than three days. We 
went up the Ajo Valley, past the Ajo copper mines, and 
received at "the store" of that settlement not one of the 
dozen letters that we eagerly expected. There is no 
regular mail service to the mines, and the inhabitants 
depend for their mail upon the kindness of the freighters 
who come southward with huge four-horse mountains of 
supplies, especially baled hay. 

Thinking to intercept our mail in transit, we accosted 
the first freighter whom we met above the mines, with a 
touching appeal. At the first mention of the magic word 
"mail," which in every country has a clear right-of-way 
to every honest man's heart, the young American driving 
the outfit pulled up sharply, threw down his whip, seized 
a loaded gunny-sack that lay on the seat beside him and 
leaped to the ground. A moment later a bushel of mail 
lay before us in a heap on the clean sand, and we eagerly 
went through it, piece by piece. Again there was abso- 
lutely nothing for our party, and after thanking the oblig- 
ing and sympathetic mail-carrier — who seemed really 
sorry that we had nothing coming to us — we drove on our 
respective ways, like ships that pass in the night. 

The Ajo Valley is not half so interesting as the trail 
from Tucson to Wall's Well. It consists almost wholly 
of creosote bushes and mesquite, with a trace of paloverde, 
in the proportion of 95, 4 and i, respectively. Above the 
Ajo mines the large cacti of all species are conspicuously 



352 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

absent. The mines are quite the northern limit of the 
organ-pipe cactus. There are no yuccas, nor palms of any 
kind, and no tree choyas nor saguaros worth mentioning. 
Beware of taking that valley as a sample of the desert 
vegetation of southern Arizona, for botanlcally the north- 
ern end of it Is distinctly below the mark. 

The Gambel quail and jack-rabbit stayed with us in 
fair numbers, and at long range we saw an occasional 
coyote. When twenty miles from the railway and the 
Gila River, we saw the smoke of a labouring locomotive, 
and by that token we knew that our holiday was nearly 
over. On the morning of December ist, which I most 
unwittingly remarked as being my birthday. Dr. Mac- 
Dougal and Mr. Sykes left early with Frank Coles and the 
light wagon, to reach Gila Bend ahead of us. There were 
many things to do In connection with getting away on the 
next east-bound train, to Tucson — so they said. 

Our freight train rolled into Gila Bend about noon; 
and it was Sunday. The town has about forty houses on 
a level plain two miles from the river, and Is garnished with 
loafing Co'capaw Indians that are spelled Cocopah. 
It was a deputation from that tribe that left Sampson and 
Litchfield in the lurch, a hundred and fifty miles from the 
railway. 

With the utmost haste we procured and packed a big 
box for the Carnegie Museum at Pittsburgh, a bigger one 
for New York, and delivered both at the station. Then 
the Doctor invited the whole party to a *' birthday dinner" 
that had been specially prepared for the Pirates of Pina- 
cate by "Missis Rucker" Mclntyre — because the hotel of 



THE FLIGHT FROM PINACATE 353 

the town had been found quite unequal to the occasion, 
and confessed its inability to make good. 

At 4 p. M., all hot, thirsty and hungry as six grizzly 
bears, we sat down to a sumptuous board that was loaded 
down to the guard-rails with good things. We had roast 
chicken, rich cream gravy, mashed potatoes, fried eggs, hot 
biscuits, exquisite fresh butter, pickles, peas, apple pie, 
milk and coffee. And, gentlemen, how those five men did 
eat! It was a sight for gods and men! And the dinner 
was fit for the gods; quite so; but we were mighty glad 
that "the gods they didn't get it!" 

The station agent was an ex-member of the U. S. 
Geological Survey, and a mighty good fellow. Incident- 
ally he was starving for a chance to hear something about 
Killers and Gannett and Stevenson and Hague, and all 
the others whom he had known "in the field" so long ago; 
and I gladly told him not only all that I knew about his old 
comrades-in-arms, but much more. 

As we boarded the train for Tucson we were a tough- 
looking crowd, and it was no wonder that the passengers 
stared at us, doubtfully and fearfully. Jess Jenkins came 
on board for a last good-bye and blessing; and he was so 
ragged and sun-burned that he looked like a land pirate 
for fair. But his good humour and droll persiflage lasted 
to the last moment. Leaving him and Coles — yes, and 
Bob Dog, thank Heaven! — to drive the wagons leisurely 
to Tucson, the four of us hied eastward through the dark- 
ness toward store clothes, money, home and letters from 
home. 

The reaction from the steady and severe rush of the 



354 CAMP-FIRES ON DESERT AND LAVA 

trip left us limp and spiritless, and it was four full days 
ere one member of the party began to feel quite like him- 
self again. 

But all's well that ends well; and may the Reader 
some day make that journey himself. 

ADIOS 



A SPORTSMEN'S PLATFORM 

FIFTEEN CARDINAL PRINCIPLES AFFECTING WILD GAME AND 

ITS PURSUIT 

Proposed by William T. Hornaday, 
APRIL 17TH, 1908. 

1. The wild animal life of to-day is not ours, to do with as we 
please. The original stock is given to us in trust, for the benefit both 
of the present and the future. We must render an accounting of this 
trust to those who come after us. 

2. Judging from the rate at which the wild creatures of North 
America are now being destroyed, fifty years hence there will be no 
large game left in the United States or in Canada outside of rigidly 
protected game preserves. It is therefore the duty of every good citizen 
to promote the protection of forests and wild life, and the creation of 
game preserves, while a supply of game remains. Every man who 
finds pleasure in hunting or fishing should be willing to spend both 
time and money in active work for the protection of forests, fish and 
game. 

3. The sale of game is incompatible with the perpetual preservation 
of a proper stock of game; therefore it should be prohibited, by laws 
and by public sentiment. 

4. In the settled and civilized regions of North America, there 
is no real necessity for the consumption of wild game as human food; 
nor is there any good excuse for the sale of game for food purposes. 
The maintenance of hired labourers such as miners, lumbermen and 
railroad-builders, on wild game should be prohibited, everywhere, under 
severe penalties. 

5. An Indian has no more right to kill wild game, or to subsist 
upon it all year round, than any white man in the same locality. The 

355 



356 A SPORTSMEN'S PLATFORM 

Indian has no inherent or God-given ownership of the game of North 
America, any more than of its mineral resources; and he should be 
governed by the same game lav^s as white men. 

6. No man can be a good citizen and also be a slaughterer of game 
or fishes beyond the narrow limits compatible with high-class sports- 
manship. 

7. A game-butcher or a market-hunter is an undesirable citizen, 
and should be treated as such. 

8. The highest purpose which the killing of wild game and game 
fishes can hereafter be made to serve is in furnishing objects to over- 
worked men for tramping and camping-trips in the wilds; and in most 
countries the value of wild game as human food should no longer be 
regarded as an important factor in its pursuit. 

9. If rightly conserved, wild game constitutes a valuable asset to 
any country which possesses it; and it is good statesmanship to protect 
it. 

10. An ideal hunting-trip consists of a good comrade, fine country 
and a very few trophies per hunter. 

11. In an ideal hunting-trip, the death of the game is only an 
incident; and by no means is it really necessary to a successful outing. 

12. The best hunter is the man who finds the most game, kills 
the least and leaves behind him no wounded animals. 

13. The killing of an animal means the end of its most interesting 
period. When the country is fine, pursuit is more interesting than 
possession. 

14. The killing of a female hoofed animal, save for special preserva- 
tion, is to be regarded as incompatible with the highest sportsmanship; 
and it should everywhere be prohibited by stringent laws. 

15. A particularly fine photograph of a large wild animal in its 
haunts is entitled to more credit than the dead trophy of a similar 
animal. An animal that has been photographed never should be 
killed, unless previously wounded in the chase. 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Acacia, "Cat-Claw," 49 
Accidents to wagons, 124, 350 
Adobe dwellings, 9, 77 
Adair Bay, 233, 349 
Agua Dulce, 129 
Ajo Lily, 77 

Mountains, 72, 73 

Valley, 78, 3Si 
Alamogordo, 10 
AU-Thom bushes, 226 
Altitude of bottom of MacDougal 
Crater, 167 

Carnegie Peak, 269 

Cubabi Peak, no 

lava plain, 232 

Pinacate Peak, 270 
Animal life, Avra Valley, 31 

Cubo Valley, 71 

in November, 303, 316 
Ammospermophilus harrisi, 67 
Antelope, Prong- Homed, 233, 314 

at Cerro Colorado, 141 

feeding on Plantago, 140 

horns shed by, 234 
Antilocapra americana, 234, 314 
Apus, 180 
Aqueducts of stone in lava field, 

178 
Arastra, 115 
Arboreal desert, 28, 36 
Area pacifica, 240 
Argemone platyceras, 32 
Arizona, University of, 1 7 
Arroyo, character of an, 39 
Arroyos in basaltic lava, 178, 235 



Artemisia tomentosa, 83 
Author, sheep killed by, 249, 286 
Avra Valley, 4, 28 

Badger holes, 312 

Barometer lost on Pinacate, 243 

Barrancas, see Arroyos 

Barrel Cactus, 60 

Bathing in the desert, 74 

Beef in the desert, 81 

Beetle, Pinacate, facing page i 

Bird life in the desert, 316 

Bittern, 325 

Bisnaga, see Cactus, Barrel 

small, as food, 151 
Black-Cap Hill, 161 
Bob, Frank Coles's dog, 205 
Botanical garden in MacDougal 

Pass, 163 
Botaurus lentiginosus, 325 
Boundary, international, 81, 154, 156 
Bridge to cross a ditch, 148 
British Columbian sheep, 331, 333, 

339 
Brittle-Bush, white, 182 
Bubo virginianus pallescens, 322 
Burros, wild, at Agua Dulce, 133 
Burrows of kangaroo rat, 308 
Buteo borealis calurus, 137, 322 

Cactus, attempt to eat, 151 

Cactus, Barrel, 60 
as food, 220 
candy from, 219 
drinking-water from, 217 



359 



36o 



INDEX 



Cactus, Barrel^ notes on distribution 

of, 220 
Cactus, Bigelow's Chova, 211, 221^ 
224 

deciduous joints of, 221, 224 

distribution of, 224 

removing spines of, 222 
Cactus gardens, 44 
Cactus, Giant, 27, 72, 211 

culminating point of, 212 

eaten by rodents, 220 

flower of, 213 

form of, 213 

in MacDougal Pass, 165 

on Pincate, 252 

roots of, 214 

wood of, 213 
Cactus, Organ-Pipe, 68 

culmination of, 216 

fruit of, 216 

northern boundary of, 215 
Cactus, Tree Choya, 224 
Cairn on Pinacate summit, 272 
California, Gulf of, 233, 237, 239, 

293 

from Pinacate, 270 
Camino del Diabolo, 113, 124 
Camp at Tule Tanks, 235 

dry, 71 

in MacDougal Pass, 163 

"lay-out," in desert, 150 
Camp-fire at Roble's Ranch, 33 

at Tule Tank, 254 

on Pinacate, 278 
Candelabrum Cactus, see Cactus, 

Organ-Pipe 
Cardium procerum, 240 
Carnegie Institution of Washington, 
18 

Museum, 228, 352 
sheep for, 202 

Peak, 268 
Cemetery at Santo Domingo, 115 
Cereus giganteus, 72, 211 

greggi, 120 

schotti, 212 

thurberi, 68 



Cerro Colorado, 139, 141 
Chipmunk, Desert, 310 
Choya, Bigelow, 193 

on Pinacate, 244 
Choya field, 161 
Choya Peak, 259 
Cleanliness of Papago villages, 62 
Climbing Pinacate, 259 
Clover Leaf Crater, 188 
Coat, sleeveless hunting, 243 
Cocopah Indians, 352 
Colaptes cafer collaris, 213, 322 
Coles, Frank, 24 

tracking of sheep by, 255 
Colonia Lerdo, 296 
Colorado River, settlements on 
lower, 295 

swimming the, 300 
Comobabi Indian villages, 61 

Mountains, 61 
Coot, American, 326 
Corn, Indian, whiskey made from, 

61 
Corvus cryptoleucus, 58 
Cotton-Tail rabbits, 66 
Cottonwood, white, 87 
Covillea tridentata, 53 
Coyote, mental processes of, 

146 

Mountains and Pass, 28, 57 

and skunk, 103 

shot and partly eaten, 298 

without fear of man, 144 
Coyotes, 132, 135, 313 

ruin a sheep, 283 
Crater, MacDougal, 165, 170 

Molina, 189 

on granite peak, 161 

Pinacate, 265 

Sykes, 189 
Creosote Bush described, 53 

in MacDougal Crater, 166 
Crows, 323 

Cubabi Mountains, 102 
Cubo Valley, 70 
Curiosity in a moimtain sheep, 

288 



INDEX 



361 



Daniels, Reuben, 117, 123, 131, 

142, 155, 171 
Deer, 314 

Coues White-Tailed, 107 
Desert, animal life in, near Tucson, 

appearance of the, 28 

Arizona, first impressions of, 36 

Botanical Laboratory, 18 

mammals, 303 

of creosote bushes, 140 

plants, water storage by, 226 

problems of the, 21 
Dew, 71 

" Devil's Chair," 49 
"Devil's Road," 113 
Dipodomys deserti, 307 
Diseases, absence of, in Sonoyta, 

Distribution of mountain sheep, 

329. 
Dogs in camp, 204 
Doves, 324 

Drinking on the deserts, 64 
Ducks in the desert, 66 

Eagle, Golden, 324 
Eaton, Howard, 317 
Echinocactus emoryi, 220 

lecontei, 220 
Echinopepon wrighti, 184 
Elias, Arturo, Mexican Consul, 

95 
Elliot, D. G., 342 
El Paso, II 
Encelia farinosa, 182 
Entry into Mexico, official, 95 
Escalenti Senor, 94 

Flicker, Red-Shafted, 213, 322 
Flood basins, 41, 70 

of the Sonoyta River, 118 
Food of Coues deer, 107 

of kangaroo rat, 309 
Fortress of a pack-rat, 304 
Foster, Charlie, 24, 55, 155, 349 

in presence of sheep, 195 



Fouquiera splendens, 49 
Frakes, Will, 339 
Frog, 328 
Fulica americana, 326 

Galleta grass meadow, 162 

at Papago Tanks, 181 
Game laws in Mexico, 345, 346 
Geococcyx calif omianus, 317 
Giant Cactus; see Cactus, Giant 

at Sonoyta, 83 

in MacDougal Pass, 165 

in Sykes Crater, 167 
Gila Bend, 91. 352 
Gila monsters, no, 327 
Gila River, 352 
Gould, Geo. H., 340 
Grave of murdered Mexican, 81 
Growler Mountains, 80 
Guide, Mexican, in presence of 

game, 195 
Gulf coast, below Colorado delta, 

298 
Gulf "of California, see California 
Gunny-sack as covering, 281 
Gunsight Mountains, 73 

Hardy's Colorado, 298 
Harriman, William H., 341 
Hawk, Western Red-Tailed, 136, 

322 
Hayes's Well, 59 
Heleodytes brunneicapillus, 320 
Heller, E., 342 
Hesperocallus undulatus, 77 
Highway to Pinacate, 235, 242, 

259 
Hilda, burning of the, 293 
Hogs, wild, on Colorado River, 

300 
Holland, W. J., 315 
Homaday Mountains, 162, 186 
Horns of mountain sheep, burned, 
182 

of Pinacate sheep, 335 
Horses on the lava, 259 

sustained by galleta grass, 236 



362 



INDEX 



Immigration, U. S. Inspector of, 

98 
Indian guides, treachery of, 113 
Individuality of desert vegetation, 40 
Irrigation at Santa Domingo, 115 

in Sonoyta Oasis, 85 
Iron- Wood Tree, 52, 183 

camp-fire of, 278 

Jack rabbits, 31, 66, 311 
as emergency food, 151 
Japanese wayfarers, 125 
Javalina, 315 
Jenkins, Jesse T., 24, 353 
Johnson, Willard D., 343 

Kangaroo Rat, 140, 307 
Kansas, 6 

Larrea Mexicana, 53 
Lava arroyos, 178 

around Sykes Crater, 192, 193 

at Cerro Colorado, 143 

efifect of, on feet, 253 

flows from Pinacate Volcano, 265 

on granite mountains, 161 

on Phillips's Buttes, 203 

on Pinacate slope, 245 

plains, 230, 232 

ridges, 229 

ridge in Ajo Valley, 80 
Lava field, edge of a great, 149, 156, 
160 

from MacDougal Crater, 176 
Laws of a hunting party, 172 
Lepus arizonae, 311 

calif omicus eremicus, 312 
Lily, Ajo, 77 

Litchfield, Jr., E. H., 332 
Livingston, Dr., 20 
Lizards, Homed, 327 
Lophortyx gambeli, 318 
Loring, J, Alden, 140 

MacDougal Crater, 159, 165, 175 
MacDougal, Dr. D. T., 
and water-storage cactus, 120, 218 



MacDougal, Dr. D. T., 

Desert Botanical Laboratory cre- 
ated by, 18 

enters outfit at Sonoyta, 96 

hawk shot by, 137 

kills mountain sheep, 272 

lays down law to Mr. Daniels, 
171 

stalks antelope, 142 
MacDougal Pass, 154, 159, 175 
Magdalena Bay, slaughter of sheep 

near, 345 
Malpais plain, 148 
McLean, Charlie, 293, 301 
Meadow of galleta grass, 162 
Medina, Lieutenant Jesus, 95, 359 
Mephitis macrura, 103 
Merriam, C. Hart, 343 
Mesquite camp-fires, 185 

Honey Pod, 47 
Mexican family, a typical, 88 
Mexican guides for sportsmen, 105 
Milton, Jefferson D., 87, 98, 121, 

125, 349 
antelopes shot by, 234 
cUmbs Pinacate, 265 
finds lost wagons, 152 
sheep killed by, 187 
Mine, abandoned, at Wall's Well, 

75 
Minnows in Sonoyta River, 325 

Mistletoe, 48 

Molina Crater, 189 

Molina, Senor Jesus, 88 

Senor Olegario, 189, 345 
Montezuma's Head, 75, 78 
Moonlight on the lava field, 254 
Monument No. 180, 154 
Mountains, Ajo, 73 

buried by sand, 347 

Comobabi, 61 

Coyote, 57 

Cubabi, 102 

Growler, 80 

Gunsight, 73, 76 

Homaday, 162 

of southern Arizona, 37 



INDEX 



363 



Mountains, Papago, 156 
Tinajas Altas, 156 
west of Fermin Point, 296 

Mount Lemmon, 21 

Mountain Sheep; see Sheep 

Mud-Hen, 326 

Mud in malpais plain, 148 

Mugwort, narrow-leaved, 83 

Mules in outfit, in 

Murex becki, 240 

Nelson, E. W., 332, 343 
Neotoma albigula, 79, 303 
Nest of Cactus Wren, 321 
Nests of Pack-Rat, 304, 306 
New Mexico, 9 
Norton, Geo. F., 341 

Oasis at Papago Tanks, 18 i 

Sonoyta, 84 
Ocatilla, 49, 79 

flower of, 138 

stems as fire-wood, 282 
Odocoileus couesi, 107 
Oklahoma, 7 
Olneya tesota, 52, 182 
Opuntias, 226 
Opuntia fulgida, 161 

Kunzei, 117 

on saguaro, 65 
Organ-Pipe Cactus, 68, 78, 136 
Ostrea lurida, 240 
Outfits, weight of personal, 26 
Ovis, the genus, 329 
Ovis canadensis, 201; see Sheep 

culminating point of, 330 

cervina cremnobates, 342 

cremnobates, 201 

mexicanus, 201, 343 

montana, 339 

nelsoni, 342 

vanishing point of, 330 
Owl, Western Homed, 322 
Oysters in San Felipe Bay, 297 

Pack-Rat, White-Throated, 303 
at Tucson, 304 



Pack-Rat, eaten by Indians, 307 

in grave, 116 
Palo Verde described, 45 
Panorama from monument 180, 

156 

Pinacate slope, 246 

Pinacate summit, 270 
Papago arroyo, 229 
Papago Indians, 28, 156, 216 

sheep killed by, 182 

villages of, 61, 67 
Papago Mountains, 156 
Papago Tanks, 164 
Parkinsonia microphylla, 45 
Parosela spinosa, 184 
Partridge, Gambel, 318 
Petunculus gigantea, 240 
Pelage of sheep, 289, 334 
Phainopepla, 323 
Phillips, John M., 23 

antelope shot by, 349 

camps on Pinacate, 281 

cyclorama of photographs by, 
272 

falls in pack-rat nest, 306 

photographs quail, 79 

photographs rattlesnake, 121 

quail shooting by, 319 

sheep killed by, 188, 249 

story of sheep hunt by, 194 
Phillips Buttes, 193 
Photography from Pinacate, 272 

on the lava beds, 230, 257 

of Pinacate, 139 
Pinacate Beetle, facing page i 
Pinacate Mountains, from Agua 
Duke, 129 

from Cerro Colorado, 139 

from Monument 180, 156 

from Papago Tanks, 228 

from Sonoyta, in 
Pinacate Peak, 5 

as a volcano, 265 

ascent of, 258 

herds of sheep on, 261 

highest point of, 261, 264 

lying-out on, 277 



364 



INDEX 



Pinacate Peak, summit of, 268, 
270 

western approach to, 235 
Pine forests, absence of, 39 
Pitahaya, see Cactus, organ-pipe 
Plantago aristata, 140 
Plantain, Desert, 140 
Plant life, 

at Coyote Mountain, 44 

at Tucson, 20 

at Sonoyta, 83 

in eastern N. Mexico, 8 

of Avra Valley, 28 

of an arroyo, 40 

of A jo Valley, 77) 35i 

of Choya Butte, 244 

of Cubo Valley, 70 

of lava field, 177 

of MacDougal Pass, 160, 162 

of Papago Oasis, 183 

of Sykes Crater, 191 

of Tule Desert, 138 
Platform, a sportsman's, 355 
Playa Salada, 135, 270, 325 
Pneumonia in mountain sheep, 340 
Pomegranate trees, 92 
Pools made by Indians, 63, 65 
Poppy, Thistle, 32 
Populus mexicanus, 87 
Prickly pear on giant cactus, 65 
Prosopis velutina, 47 
Punica granatum, 92 

Quail, Gambel, 318, 352 
Quijotoa Mountains, 67 
Quiroz, Judge Traino, 88 

family of, 88 
Quitovaquita, 122 

sheep caught at, 342 

Rabbits, 66 

Arizona Cotton-Tail, 311 

Arizona Jack, 31, 311 
Raft for crossing Colorado River, 

298 
Rainbow and mountain sheep, 197 
Rain at Sonoyta, 104, 118 



Ranch, Roble's, 32 
Rat, see Pack-Rat and Kangaroo 
Rat 

Rattlesnake, 59, 120, 131, 240, 

327 
Ravens, 32, 58, 67, 323 
Represa Tank, 181 
Rex, Mr. Milton's dog, 206, 208 
Rio Grande, 12 
Road-Runner, 317 
Roble's Pass, 26 

ranch, 31 
Rock Island Railway, 6 
Rowdy, Mr. Milton's dog, 206 
Rumex hymenosepalus, 77 

Sacramento Mountains, 10 
Saguaro, see Cactus, Giant 
San Andreas Mountains, 10 
"San Felipe," mythical "Puerto," 

293 
Sands of the gulf, 347 
Sand ridge in MacDougal Pass, 162 
San Quentin, 341 
Santa Catalina Mountains, 14, 20 
Santa Cruz River, 15 
Santo Domingo, 114 
Santa Maria Lakes, 342 
Santa Rosa Valley, 65 
Sampson, Jr., Henry, 332 
Saunders, George, 100 
Scuirus, no occurrences of, 311 
Sheep, destruction of, by Papago 

Indians, 182 
Sheep, Mountain, of Pinacate, 

appearance of, 200 

awful home of, 202 

bed of, 252 

caught at Quitovaquita, 342 

color of, 331 

curiosity in, 288 

dentition of, 339 

feet of, 333 

food of, 202, 339 

herds of, 261 

horns of, 252, 335 

hunt for, 241 



INDEX 



365 



Sheep, Mountain, of Pinacate, 
killed, 187, 188, 249, 272, 286 
last specimen of, 284 
measurements of, 201 
pelage of, 334 
size of, 332 
skulls of, 339 
trails of, 260 

unfamiliar with man, 263, 288 
vigor of wounded, 274, 286 
Sheep hunt, by the author, 247, 
286 
by Mr. Phillips, 194, 247 
Dr. MacDougal's story of, 272 
Mr. Sykes's story of, 289 
Sheep of Lower California, hunt for, 
by G. F. Norton, 341 
by G. H. Gould, 340 
by Sampson and Litchfield, 336, 
339, 341 
Sheep of Mexico, conclusions re- 
garding, 343 
Sheep of the world, 329 
Sierra Blanca, New Mexico, 10 
Siri Mountains, sheep seen in, 343 
Skunk eaten by coyote, 103 
Smoke-Tree, Spiny, 184 
Soap- Weed, 8 

on San Felipe Bay, 297 
Sonoyta River, 83 

below Quitovaquita, 124, 137 
in flood, 118 
last waters of, 325 
lower half of, 269 
Sonoyta Oasis, 84 

life in the, 90 
Sonoyta Valley, 82, in 
Southern Pacific Railway, 15 
Sportsmen's platform, 355 
Spring at Quitovaquita, 122 
Squirrel, Harris's Antelope, 67, 310 
Swimming the Colorado, 298 
Sykes, Godfrey, 23, 30, 291 
carries sheep, 193 
climbs Cubabi Peak, no 
craters discovered by, 188 
crater named after, 189 



Sykes, Godfrey, goes to the gulf, 
238 

measures crater, 190 
stalks a ram, 289 
story of desert experience, 293 

Tanks, Papago, 164, 177, 179 

Represa, 181 

Tule, 235 
Tannin plant, 77 
Teniente Medina, of Nogales, 95 
Temperatures, 71, 165, 256 
Thrasher, Crissal, nest of, 322 
Times, Los Angeles, 345 
Tinajas Altas Mountains, 156 

Tanks, 114 
"Toads," homed, 327 
Toxostoma crissalis, 322 
Trail across lava field, 229 

over the lava, 176 

to Tule Tank, 229, 232 
Trail-making, 155 
Trails of sheep, 260 
Tree choya, woody stem of, 225 
Tucson, 13, 14 
Tucumcari, 9 
Tularosa, 9 
Tule Desert, 154 

Tanks, 235 

University of Arizona, 17 

Valley, Avra, 28 
Vegetation, see Plant Life 
Vine in Papago Oasis, 184 
Volcanic mud, plain of, 146 

Wagons, end of route for, 170 

lost to the hunters, 150 
Wagon, Mexican, 350 
Wall's Well, 73 

Warning about water-holes, 237 
Water-carrying in the desert, 155 
Water-drinking on the deserts, 64 
Water, allowance of Sykes and Mc- 
Lean, 297 



366 



INDEX 



Water, at Tule Tanks 
from barrel cactus, 219 
in lava tanks, 178, 180, 237 
supply of animals, 309 

Watermelons in the desert, 29 

Weather in November, 55 

Wells in deserts, 60 

Wheat, Indian, 140 

White Sands, 10 

White-Tailed Deer 108 



Woodpecker nests in giant cactus, 213 
Wren Cactus, 320 
Wyoming sheep, 333 

Yaqui Indians in Tucson, 16 
Yucca, 8 
Yuma, fi3 
boats built at, 292, 293 

Zoological Park, sheep in, 341 



BOOKS BY W. T. HORNADAY 

PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



The American 
Natural History 

Illustrated by 220 original drawings by Beard, Rungius, and Sawyer, 

and 100 photographs by Sanborn, Keller, and Underwood, and 

with numerous diagrams and maps. More than 400 

pages, double column, 5^x8 inches. $3.50 net 

« Not only a book packed with information which can be de- 
pended on, but one of absorbing interest. . . . The best thing in its 
field that has been published in this country."— 'NashvWleJmertcan. 

" Mr. Hornaday is a practical man and he has written a 
practical book. . . . The descriptions are clear and avoid over- 
technicality, while they are accompanied by readable accounts of 
animal traits and incidents of wild life. It is refreshing to have 
a book that is thoroughly dependable as regards fact and scientific 
in spirit, vet written with liveUness and freshness of manner." 
^ -^ —The Outlook. 

« The author has succeeded remarkably well from the popu- 
lar as well as from the professional point of view. The result is 
a book which a farm-boy may study without a teacher and get a 
proper idea of the animals about him; and a book which a teacher 
may truthfully follow in the class-room and not mislead the 
pupils he is endeavoring to instruct." — Ernest Ingersoll. 

" Here are the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, the 
fishes of the deep, described in clear, simple language, with no 
ambiguity, and pictured in many cases by photographs from life, 
in others by drawings of well-known animal painters. We 
suspect that Mr. Hornaday's book will be the popular natural 
history for a long time to come." — New York Sun. 

" It is safe to predict for this lavishly illustrated work wide 
and enduring popularity ; there is so human a note in it, it is so 
markedly well designed to attract and hold the attention of older 
as well as younger readers." — New York Evening Mail. 

" The manner of treatment throughout is not merely m- 
teresting, it is exceedingly witty and uniformly readable. . . . 
It would seem that every effort had been made by the author to 
secure accuracy and modernity of treatment, and his book i£ 
altogether one to be prized on every account." — The Dial. 



B Y W. T. HORNADAY 

Camp Fires in the 
Canadian Rockies 

Illustrated. 8vo. $3.00 net 

"It is the best told, best illustrated, best reproduced 
hunting story ever encountered in the writer's thirty odd 
years of professional contact with literature of this kind. 
The book is a treasure trove to all sportsmen, besides 
being a reference book of inestimable value to the scien- 
tist and student." — Western Field. 

"There were adventures with grizzlies, a great moun- 
tain sheep hunt, wonderful trout fishing, and the grandest 
of scenery to fill the trip with unalloyed delight and give 
zest to every page of the book. Mr. Hornaday is in very 
close sympathy with nature, abounds in humor, writes 
well, and, best of all he abhors the ruthless destruction of 
animal life." — The New York Times Saturday Review. 

"The volume is undoubtedly one of the most remark- 
able and best of those dealing with the adventures of the 
sportsman-naturalist in America, and it deserves a per- 
manent place on the bookshelves of those who enjoy the 
successes of the camera as much as those of the rifle." 

— Philadelphia Public Ledger. 

"Written in a lively and popular style, and abounding 
in thrilling adventure, it is also a valuable contribution to 
the natural history of the region." — New York Tribune. 

"This is one of the best 'outing' books that has ap- 
peared in our country for years." 

— Bulletin of the American Geographical Society. 



BY W. T. HORNADAY 



Taxidermy and 
Zoological Collecting 

Illustrated. 8vo. $2.50 net 

"In this handsomely illustrated book taxidermy and 
its allied branches have at last been adequately dealt with. 
The subject is treated ab initio; it begins with the hunting 
of the animals and the study of fresh specimens, and ex- 
tends down to the final preservation of skins and mounting 
the same." — Scientific American. 

" The important feature of this exceedingly valuable 
—and to the amateur collector absolutely indispensable — 
handbook is that it contains, in the most succinct and 
lucid form, information that the standard volumes on the 
subject do not give. There is plenty of entertainment^ in 
the volume. It is profusely and admirably illustrated." 

— Boston Beacon. 

«A handsome, valuable, and richly illustrated volume. 
It contains a great mass of information interesting even 
for the uninitiated." — Brooklyn Eagle. 

" The work is the most complete, the most practical, 
and the most valuable contribution to the subject that 
has yet come from the press, and will be heartily wel- 
comed by all interested in taxidermy or engaged m the 
work of collecting specimens."— r/i^ Christian Work. 

" It may be read with interest by all who have any 
love for natural history. To those who wish to practice 
taxidermy, we do not see how any book could be more 
exactly devised to meet their wants. The instructions 
are simple and trustworthy. The cuts are numerous 
and satisfactory."-- -TA^ Herald and Presbyter. 



7l 



By W^. T. HORNADAY 

Two Years in the Jungle 

The Experiences of a Hunter and Naturalist in 
India, Ceylon, the Malay Peninsula, and Borneo 

\Vith Maps and Illustrations. 8vo. $2.50 

"A book which will be thoroughly enjoyed from 
cover to cover." — Boston Transcript. 

" It is an interesting narrative of travel, sport, and 
adventure over a very wide area. There is indeed no 
dull writing in it and it is a record of a really astonishing 
amount of very hard work, performed often under serious 
difficulties, with the most cheerful spirit in the world." 

— New York Tribune. 

"As a contribution to natural science and to the litera- 
ture of travel Mr. Hornaday's book is as instructive and 
valuable as it is interesting." — The Dial. 

"All things considered, this is one of the most satis- 
factory books of its kind that we have seen. ... Its 
author possesses to a marked degree the happy but rare 
faculty of knowing just how much science the general 
reader likes to have mixed with his narrative, and also 
how to give it to him without missing either the science 
or the narrative." — Science. 

" Mr. Hornaday has written instructively and attract- 
ively. An enthusiast in his love of his profession of 
naturalist, an artist in his manner of studying animals, 
and a scientific hunter, he joins qualities that were never 
united in a previous writef^^^Boston Globe. 

1,2 



■a 



0-' 



'/S 



>^ -^ct 



-Ik - \ 



■X^^ 



- ' .'^ 



^. ^<p 






\v^"" 



■V 



.^^' "; 



■p.. 






6- 



,v 












x\^' ^^ 



•\ 



"'^, 



f^ 


V*^ ' 


^>^«< 




•'-\. 




■': -s^ 



lA 






-^^^ ' 






^^' 



.A^ 



,0 o^ 



^'^ :^ .^yr9%,^/' ^ 



:.V 






c^^ 

^ ^ ^-^- 



■K^'' '^V 



s'< A 



^. .J^'' 



^f-^ * 






"^ CI >■ , "-^^ 






v^ 









^^x 


.^^ 








x^^' 


■y 




^^ s 








xO 


°^ 


' ' 







A- 



s^'-^ 















V /», 



,x^-^' ^-r- 






aX^' ^^. 






.V 'cf-. 



K^^ ■'^^ 



^"^.^ -^o, 






•V^ -= i^^&v ^ ^, ^ V 



...x^^' ^^- 



A^ . t • 






a> -U 



>. "..o^^ ,# 



CP-^ + g 



-0- 









--.a- -n.- V 



■f^, ^:^^ -^.J^ilii?^-. 



otV 



- <^y 



#-r 






zi 



^ ,0 



,0> s 









^^^ 



^-' '•:*-_- 



